


Very Bad Things

by mapleandmahogany



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Action/Adventure, Angst, Drama, Erotica, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Heterosexual Sex, Hurt/Comfort, Romance, The Quidditch Pitch: Erotic Couplings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-04-28
Updated: 2006-05-28
Packaged: 2018-10-27 16:54:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 7
Words: 22,985
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10813032
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mapleandmahogany/pseuds/mapleandmahogany
Summary: Ron and Hermione survive the war but suffer their worst attack on their final mission with Harry.





	1. Just In Case

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Annie, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Quidditch Pitch](http://fanlore.org/wiki/The_Quidditch_Pitch), which went offline in 2015 when the hosting expired, at a time I was not able to renew it. I contacted Open Doors, hoping to preserve the archive using an old backup, and began importing these works as an Open Doors-approved project in April 2017. Open Doors e-mailed all authors about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact us using the e-mail address on [The Quidditch Pitch collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/thequidditchpitch/profile).

The nighttime streets of Diagon Alley were full of young people these days. It had only been five months since the defeat of Voldemort and the entire magical community was surging with festivity and a renewed joy of life. After the preceding years of hiding and being too afraid to be out of doors, they were making up for it in style now.

   


Harry Potter worked his way through the crowds and romancing couples, the musicians and young wizards showing off their skills. He would ignore the looks and whispers he heard along the way. He had grown accustomed; apparently there was nothing to be done about it. 

   


He had sent a note by owl to Ron and Hermione earlier in the evening asking them to meet him in front of Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes at 8:00 that evening. It was short notice he knew, but he also knew he could count on them to be there. When they came into view, he stopped to admire them. He smiled as he watched them together. Seeing them like this reminded him of what he’d been fighting for all these years. It was what his parents had, and then lost; what he wanted for himself so badly, but had yet to allow himself to have. There were times when Ron and Hermione’s romance alone had been enough to push him through one more day of the blasted ‘good fight’ he had unwilling been forced into the day he was born.

   


~^~^~^

   


Anyone looking at young witch and wizard dancing to the music in the air would see how obviously in love they were. Well, she was dancing; he was more like swaying lamely from side to side. His hands lightly trailed over her hips while she moved playfully, seductively. They were clearly enjoying each other and the rest of the world didn’t seem to matter. 

   


Standing under a lamppost outside the joke shop, they were waiting to meet Harry. They had already planned to spend an evening out when they received a short note by owl asking them to meet him here. Harry had been gone for a few days gaining information on the last Death Eater he intended to capture, so they anticipated some news. They would deal with business when he arrived, until then, it was just the two of them. So often that’s how they had gotten through the dark days together. They would put every bit of energy into each other for the brief moments they could, putting the entire world aside, just turning everything off and not letting anything it in. There were times when the only thing they could do was find a better place in each other’s eyes. 

   


“I’ll never get you to really dance with me, will I?” Hermione asked with a playful smile, as she moved along to the music. She knew his eyes were roaming over her wriggling figure and pausing at her cleavage for a moment before looking back up at her.  

   


“I don’t need to, do I love?” Ron responded, his head bobbing along following her moving body, “I just need you to dance next to me, and then I look brilliant!” he joked. She smirked at him and moved into his arms, resting her head on his chest. He kissed the top of her head and let his hand roam over her back.

   


“Isn’t this magnificent? Like the whole world is ours? We don’t have to wait for anything anymore. No more hiding and running and fighting. Moving on with our lives – we can finally be _normal!_ ”

   


“Mm – hmm,” he moaned in agreement, and pulled her against him even tighter, just a hint of a hip thrust in his action. She smiled up at him and they kissed, and it lingered. He let his hand stray down the back of her dress to the curve below her waist. She turned and pushed at him gently.

   


“Will you stop that!” she said softly, “people will notice!”

   


He laughed at her. “Who cares? And I’ve got news for you, Love, the way you’re looking tonight, people have already noticed.”

   


“Oh please.” She rolled her eyes at him.

   


“It’s true you naughty witch. I’ve seen more than a few blokes turn their heads at you. You’re going to be the fantasy of a fare few rub-offs tonight I’ll wager.”

   


“Ron! Don’t be so vulgar – and, just disgusting!” Hermione flinched, and yet she only scolded playfully. She was plenty used to Ron’s colorful language by now. Not much he said really bothered her anymore, but she felt duty bound to act appalled. Their roles were etched deep after years of banter, and they liked it this way. 

   


“But, I don’t look like I’m trying to attract _attention_ , do I?” she asked, now sounding honestly concerned, crossing her arms nervously in front of herself. 

   


Hermione was completely taken with the new freedom in the world, and her developing relationship with Ron. She gained some confidence with her age, and with Ron’s compliments. She liked to impress him with her appearance now that they were no longer on the run, living out of a rucksack wearing same old dirty jeans and jumpers. However, the proper girl inside still struggled against the sensual young woman she had become. Tonight she was wearing a sleeveless, fitted white linen dress with silver buttons all the way down the front, and set it off with a pair a black knee-length boots. Her hair was loosely coiled on top of her head. Ron generously complemented her and wasn’t shy about looking at his favorite features. Even if she was simply wearing jeans and a jumper, she was beautiful in his eyes, but he couldn’t help it if he enjoyed it when she dressed up for him too.

   


“No love, you look damn sexy and completely respectable, of course.” She shoved at him with mock reproach, but then leaned into his chest again, stealing a quick kiss on his neck. She was just about to nip on his collarbone when she spotted Harry coming towards him over Ron’s shoulder and pulled away from him. 

   
   


“Harry!” she said fondly and came forward to embrace him. They had all seen each other only a few days before, but it was still cheering to see one another safe and sound. 

   


“Hi. Look at you,” he said stepping back taking in Hermione’s appearance, “you look… _good_ ….” She blushed and smiled, biting her lip. 

   


“Oi Potter – eyes up!” Ron chided, playfully shielding Hermione as he came forward.

   


“You’re just jealous because she makes you look like shite,” Harry retorted. 

   


“Yeah, she does.” He grinned at Harry. They shook hands and clapped one another’s shoulder in the most masculine sort of hug they would allow themselves. 

   


“How are ya mate?” Rod asked, and then lowering his voice, “did you get what you were after?”

   


Harry’s expression returned sober and gave him a nod. Harry looked so tired, and much older than he ought too. They had seen their best friend acquire a remarkable amount of magical power since he became of age and they joined him in the war after leaving school. He didn’t have complete control or a good understanding of the power he possessed, but it was there. 

   


They all sat on a nearby bench together. Harry casually looked around them to verify their privacy. They knew he was observing the crowds, one hand on his wand just inside his robe, listening, always on guard. Ron had done the same thing earlier.

   


“It’s almost over now guys, really over. He’s come back.” Ron and Hermione considered this information solemnly and squeezed hands. Harry was speaking of Draco Malfoy. He was the last Death Eater not yet killed or captured since Voldemort’s death. Between his father’s money and the protection Snape and his Aunt Bellatrix had given him, he had eluded the Ministry and the Order. He was the last person Harry was resolved to apprehend, before he would let himself rejoice in his victory with the rest of the world. Before he would fully get to enjoy the happiness of hope and future that Ron and Hermione had already succumbed to. Ginny….

   


“I want to go in now, tonight” Harry said, “are you two with me on this?” 

   


“Of course, Mate”

   


“Yes Harry, certainly!”

   


He knew Ron and Hermione wanted to see this final chapter of their lives closed as much as he did. 

   


“All right,” Harry said keeping his voice low, but trying to appear casual in the crowd, “I’m going to collect a few other Order members, just Lupin, Tonks, and Kingsley. I believe he’s alone, so there shouldn’t be too much trouble.”

   


“Are you sure he’s alone?”

   


“Pretty certain, yes. We can gather outside the Manor about half past ten, remember the place?” Ron and Hermione nodded. They had raided Malfoy Manor once before, a few months ago when Narcissa Malfoy had died, but it hadn’t led to any useful information about Draco’s whereabouts. 

   


“Don’t you think it’s too soon Harry?” Hermione asked. “Have you put enough preparation into this? Is there enough time? You only just got back.”

   


“I can hardly stand sitting here as it is, Hermione. I don’t want him to get away again. And if I can get everyone else in line, I might even go in earlier.”

   


“No way, Mate. You wait for backup.” Ron interjected, “We all know you don’t need our _help_ \- you’ll take the poncey wanker before he knows what landed on him that’s for sure - but we don’t do these things alone, right? That’s your rule.”

   


Ron was one person who always cut through Harry’s exterior, and Harry couldn’t deny that he was correct.

   


“Yes, I know you’re right.” Harry sheepishly nodded his agreement. Ron checked him in the arm.

   


“Good then, we’re set?” Harry asked, standing and pausing to observe the two of them, “and, I’m sorry I’m putting a damper on your evening. You don’t really have to come if you don’t want to, I’ll be fine on my own.”

   


“Of course we’re with you, Harry,” said Hermione, squeezing his forearm in assurance.

   


“Hey what about Ginny?” asked Ron. “She’s not coming then?”

   


“No,” Harry said firmly, “I just came from seeing her. I asked her stay at your parents tonight. I just, well, you know. She distracts me, and I want to keep my head clear, that’s all. It’s so close to being over now”

   


They smiled at him sympathetically. 

   


“See you soon.” And with that, Harry turned from them and went quickly back down the street.

   


“You’ll wait, right?” Ron shouted after him, but got no further response. 

   


Ron and Hermione watched him until they knew he had disappeared. They both looked at each other soberly. Ron’s brow furrowed and he suddenly pulled Hermione into a tight embrace.

   


“What is it?” asked Hermione.

   


“I know we both have to do this tonight, but I understand how Harry feels you know; about not wanting Ginny there.”

   


“Now Ron,” Hermione chided, “you won’t start being like that will you?”

   


“No, ‘course not. I know it wouldn’t matter anyway, you’re so stubborn. But all the same, if I could tuck you in safely at the Burrow tonight, I’d do it. I saw you through the war, I want you to stay safe now.” He softened as a look of annoyance crept into her eyes. 

   


“Hey, it’s cause I love you, right?” Ron said smiling at her with the same impish smile he used to get her to finish his homework in school.

   


“You don’t have to worry about me, Ron” Hermione said, pinching him on the stomach. 

   


“I know – stop that tickles - but I always do anyway.”

   


He leaned down and kissed her once more until she pulled away slowly, both of them knowing they didn’t need to press this topic any further.

   


“Let’s get a cuppa first,” Ron said brightly, quickly changing the mood. He took her hand and began walking, “and then we can take off in a bit. I want to be there early, just in case Harry forgets his own rules.”

   


~^~^~^~

   


_A/N  Huge thanks to my beta mrspadfOOt1 for all the guidance and reassuring me that I should even continue this story, in spite of its intensity._


	2. Chapter 2

_Hermione’s mind was spinning with controlled alarm and cursing herself as she stared at the wands pointing at her. How could she and Ron have been so mistaken? She could see Ron was equally as furious with himself, and could see his eyes were trying to find a way out, looking for an opportunity._  
   


~^~^~^ 

   


It was only minutes ago that Ron and Hermione Apparated down the lane from Malfoy Mansion. They were at least 20 minutes early, but Ron didn’t want to chance letting Harry go it alone. 

   


The great house was indeed imposing. Though it didn’t look as magnificent as Ron had often imagined, it looked solid and cold, nothing like what a house, a home, should be. 

   


“The windows are dark,” Ron said as they crept steadily towards the front walkway. “Wait.” They were in the last stretch of hedgerow that would conceal them before they made a dash to the front entrance. He turned and looked down at Hermione, every feature visible in the moonlight. Her expression was no longer playful as it had been a short time ago in Diagon Alley. It was now serious, as he’d seen it so often during the war. He had gotten used to seeing her look happy in the last months since Voldemort had fallen, and he hated to see that grave look in her once again. 

   


“You are always so beautiful – you know it?” he said as he pulled her into a brief kiss, and then pushed a loose curl out of her eyes, still holding her close. 

   


“You stopped just for that?” 

   


“Yeah, well, no. We’re going in there together for Harry, to finish this. But this is the last time, right? We’ve been through so much I don’t want to keep taking chances something will happen to you.”

   


“Oh Ron, stop it.”

   


“No. I’m not trying to be a prig, here. It’s got nothing to do with how smart and capable you are. You are stronger than I am, I admit it. I’m weak when it comes to you. So much that I can’t bear the thought of you getting hurt…or worse.”

   


Her look softened and she stood on tiptoes to kiss him lightly on the lips, then on his jaw, finally settling on his neck as she stood down again. 

   


“I think I’ve had plenty of this kind of excitement for a lifetime. As you said, tonight is just for Harry, then we’re done.” She spoke with confidence, reminding him of the many battles they had already faced together.

   


He smiled at her and gave her one last squeeze and released her. 

   


“Right,” he said running his hands through his hair and wiping his palms dry on his trousers, rearranging his grip on his wand. “Ready?” They took a deep breath, “go!” and they both sprinted the 25 meters from their hidden spot behind the shrubbery to the columns on the front landing of the mansion. 

   


They smiled at each other across the small distance between the two pillars they were hiding behind. Making it this far without any curses flying at them was the first triumph. 

   


Ron glanced around the landing quickly, before motioning to Hermione that he was going to go up to the entrance, she nodded her acknowledgement. He ran up to the side of the large, two door entrance, pressing himself flat against the wall by the side of the doorway. Hermione followed and took the same spot opposite the large pair of doors.    
  


“Ron, I don’t think there are any wards on the entrance at all,” Hermione said, running her wand along the cracks of the door.

   


“Reckon that means Harry’s already broken them? Or that Malfoy didn’t set any?” Hermione only shook her head in response.

   


Ron peered into the foyer through a narrow strip of stained glass that outlined the door. “I can see movement in there, light and shadows on the walls. I knew it! I don’t think we even need _Alohomora_ , it’s not even locked.” And he carefully touched the ornate door handle and pressed the lever. It opened easily and through the crack in the door they could already hear the muffled sounds of commotion.

   


They were both certain Harry was already inside now, and they rushed into the foreboding house without another thought. The two quickly made it to the end of the large foyer and through the doorway of the study off to the left. They were more than ready to enter the fray with Harry. But that wasn’t going to happen.

   


“Shit!” The whispered profanity escaped Ron the instant he realized they had made a terrible mistake.

   
   


~^~^~^

   


Their mistake was that Harry had not gone in ahead of them. Harry’s mistake was that Draco Malfoy was not alone. In fact, there were several people inside. Malfoy had a small gang with him, and for only a second they looked just as shocked to be intruded upon as their intruders felt.

   


Ron and Hermione both cast hexes as they dodged in opposite directions from the curses that were already speeding towards them.

   


It happened quicker than either could have imagined. They dodged. They got separated. They fought. They got surrounded. They were stripped of their wands, and all too suddenly, _caught_.

   


When the fog of adrenaline cleared their eyes, they didn’t think it could have been worse. Four men were holding Ron to the floor. When he lost his wand, he resorted to what he really knew best, fisticuffs. His captures were bloodied and breathing heavy but their sheer number overpowered him in the end. 

   


“Hermione!” he called out, panic was rising in him. Being pinned to the floor he couldn’t see where she was. 

   


“I’m here,” he heard her small voice answer. Then he heard a sneering laugh, one that he hadn’t heard in years, but knew instantly who it belonged to.

   


“Bring him,” the voice said. Ron received a swift knee in the stomach as he was pulled to his feet, knocking his breath from him just as he prepared to struggle again. He was lead unsteadily across the room and forced upright. He was released from their hold, knowing it was only because wands were aimed at him again.

   
   


~^~^~^

   
   


Hermione thought Draco Malfoy looked like something out of a Muggle music video. His pale blonde hair was short and spiked up at odd angles. He was as pallid as he ever had been, but now actually looked ill from of a life of too much decadence, elicit potion use and hiding. Holding a bottle of liquor, he hardly looked like he could be one of their peers, his recent life of depravity and darkness made him look so much older now. 

   


“I am really shocked at you, Weasel,” he said with a cold laugh, “still rutting the Mudblood?” He was advancing towards Hermione, his wand aimed at her, as he was looking her up and down in a most indecent manner. Ron could feel himself begin to shake with anger and smell his own scent as he began to sweat.

   


“I mean, I could see why you were tickling that at school, who else would have you, really? But after all this time, you still can’t get a witch of pure blood to shag? Hmm?” Ron tried to keep his composed, but rage was building. Hermione just looked at Ron calmly. Malfoy’s spiteful comments had ceased to faze her long ago when they knew him in school. Her eyes claimed Ron’s and she somehow managed to communicate a reassuring smile and shook her head in objection. She was keeping him cool, and he obeyed. Her brown eyes could always stop him in his tracks.  

   


“Still, she must do something right to keep you around – yeah?” Malfoy continued now standing close to Hermione. He blatantly surveyed her curves, bating Ron.

   


 “Maybe we should find out exactly what kind of talents the filthy whore really has?” He touched her leg with his wand, and trailed it from her black knee-boot up her thigh, raising the hem of her skirt just an inch. He looked at Ron with a smile and licked his teeth. Hermione jerked away. Malfoy’s followers laughed and one of the group,‘cat-called’.

   


“You’ll not touch her,” Ron said threatening, taking a small step forward. Malfoy pointed his wand at Ron quickly and walked around behind the desk that Hermione was backed up against. She mused only for a moment that he still seemed afraid of a fight with Ron, even when Ron was unarmed and he had the wand.

   


“Oh you’re absolutely right Weasley. I wouldn’t degrade myself by touching your filthy bint…. I’ll let you do it” – and with those words he uttered the _Imperius_ Curse so quick, neither Ron nor Hermione had any time to react.

   


“No! Ron!” Hermione saw Ron’s body stiffen and his facial expression go neutral. She searched his eyes for some recognition but saw only a glassy stare. Her Ron was gone, and she was alone. As her own panic now started to rise now, she turned to Malfoy. 

   


“Please, Draco, don’t do this. Using an Unforgivable Curse will make things so much worse for you. There are a lot of people who believe that it wasn’t your fault – what happened with Dumbledore - that you were taken advantage of because of your father.  We can help you!” She was desperate to try to find a personal connection with him, to reason with him. He only looked angrier and disgusted.

   


“Don’t dare talk to me like we’re friends, you filth!” he sneered and flicked his wand in Ron’s direction, “shut her up Weasley!” 

   


At Malfoys’s command, Ron’s body took a few long strides across the room towards her. Hermione turned to see him approach just as his hand raised and came down hard against her face. His backhand slap nearly knocked her down and made her vision swim for a moment. 

   


“Ron,” Hermione whispered looking back up to him, searching his eyes. She held her sore cheek with one hand and put her other against his chest. She wanted to cling to him, to shake him, to make him see her. 

   


At once a memory flooded back to her. Back to the spell practicing Ron and Harry had done while searching for Horcruxes. She found out that they were practicing the _Imperius_ curse on each other. She had been furious with them when she found out and made them swear to stop. Ron could never hold Harry under it for more than a moment though his curse did get stronger with practice. Ron certainly never broke Harry’s _Imperius_ curse on him, but after time he had learned to clear his mind and to see and hear what was happening around him. Ron didn’t particularly object to her demand to stop. Although he trusted Harry completely, he had confided in Hermione later that he really hated it. He went along with it for the sake of helping Harry become stronger, but he couldn’t stand not being in control of himself, it was violating.

   


Malfoy was taking another long drink on his bottle, delighting in the fear he saw on Hermione’s face. She saw the faintest flicker of movement that no one else saw. Ron’s eyes blinked and she saw the fog fade away and Ron’s true gaze returned her own.

   


“Well, let’s get moving along – come on Weasel King, show us what she’s got that you just can’t seem to resist?” he said flicking his wand at Ron once again. Ron’s hand reached to the front of her dress and deftly ripped it open, sending the little silver buttons flying. Hermione gasped, grasping at her dress while trying to back away from Ron. She was trapped between the desk behind her and Ron’s unyielding form in front. 

   


Now fully understanding that Malfoy was beyond approach, Hermione thought wildly. She closed her eyes, and began muttering quiet charms, trying to concentrate on wandlessly assaulting her captors. She began to send objects all around the room, sending books, candles and ornaments flying at Malfoy and the others. They shouted and ducked, dodging the dangerous items, even as a few made contact with their targets. Malfoy held one arm over his head, ducking and swatting away the offending missiles.

   


“Enough!” he yelled as he waved his wand at Ron. Hermione opened her eyes when she sensed Ron’s body shift in front of her. Ron leaned forward and from the assortment of desktop items retrieved a long silver letter opener. She watched in horror as his arm reached across his own neck and began cutting into the skin there, blood tricking down from the two-inch line that was already visible. She saw his eyes widen registering pain and fear, but he had no power to stop the action.

   


“No! Please no!” Hermione screamed as she put both of her hands over Ron’s to still his action. Every item that was at that moment flying through the air instantly fell to the floor. She was using all of her strength to pull Ron’s hand back and the letter opener away from his own neck, as her torn dress fell open again. 

   


“Please Draco, stop this! Please don’t hurt him! I – I’m sorry.”

   


“Ahh – that’s it then isn’t it?” Malfoy said as he stood again and rounded the front of the desk to stand next to her and Ron’s frozen form. “You understand, don’t you Mudblood? You’re in _my house_ now! You don’t control things here. I control things here. Yes?”

   


“Yes, yes,” she whispered, fighting back her tears as she only focused on Ron’s eyes, which were also on hers. Malfoy moved his wand as she felt Ron’s grip on the letter opener slacken, and she released his hands. Malfoy took the blood stained letter opener and turned it towards Hermione. He rotated the sharp implement close to her face, threateningly.

   


“Now if you try anything like that again, I’ll let the bloodtraitor finish the job next time. He’ll slice his own throat and you can watch him choke on the blood for as long as it takes for him to die.” His voice was so cold and smooth, almost as if he were ordering tea rather than threatening death. She nodded her submission as she put one hand over Ron’s bleeding neck wound. It wasn’t too deep. She looked for help in Ron’s eyes, but he had nothing to give back. Just the meaningful distress as he looked at her.

   


“Well, let’s have some entertainment then!” Malfoy yelled, setting the letter opener on the desk, taking a step back from them. The fire flared in the hearth and the rest of the room dimmed, while wild music suddenly blared from a Wizard Wireless somewhere across the room. His group of hangers-on all cheered as they might have at a Quidditch match, while Malfoy tilted his head back taking another long drink from his bottle. Hermione knew he must be high on Dark Magic and potions to be wielding this much power. Ordinary Firewhiskey should have dulled his abilities.

   


Hermione continued to look only into Ron’s eyes. She wouldn’t acknowledge the rest of them in the room again. 

   


“So then, what has she got?” Malfoy asked as he waved his wand again. Ron’s body suddenly launched forward. His hands slid into her torn dress and around her waist, pulling her up into a forceful kiss. Hermione’s mind reeled. It was Ron’s lips against hers, his tongue in her mouth, but this wasn’t Ron’s kiss. He’d never be so rough and unfeeling. There was no passion, no love. This was just hard and clumsy. She instinctively turned her head and tried to shove against him. Her eyes caught sight of the gleaming letter opener on the desk, still dripping Ron’s blood. She knew the threat against Ron if she protested. She closed her eyes against the laughs and lewd comments from Malfoy’s cronies, as she felt Ron’s mouth placing empty kisses and licking down her neck. She could only pray for Harry to arrive soon.

   


“Ron,” she whispered desperately into his ear as his mouth sucked on her collarbone, “please try to fight it darling, please come back to me.” Fearful tears welled in her eyes but she resisted letting them fall. She could feel Ron’s shirt was damp, clinging to his back. She knew that he was cold sweating with torment as he fought against himself, trapped in his own body.

   


She felt Ron’s hand snake around to her front and reach for her bra. She instinctively wrestled with his hand to stop its action. 

   


“Now, now, none of that.” Malfoy scolded. Ron’s hands grabbed both of hers and forced them behind her back. He held both her wrists together with one of his large, strong hands as his other found its way to her bra again and with little effort unsnapped the tiny clasp that held it together. Malfoy howled as he held his bottle out and upturned some of the liquid over the front of her body. As one side of her bra fell open, Ron’s mouth covered her exposed breast. Malfoy and the others cried with laughter, and the fires in the room flared once again. 

   


Hermione curved into Ron’s body, trying to shield herself from the others’ view. Malfoy was only a few feet away, and she continued whispering into Ron’s ear. 

   


“Please fight it, I need you to resist the curse Ron, please try. Stop it please.” He could hear her plea, and see his own vile assault of her body under his, but he was powerless to still his actions.

   


She cried out in pain as Ron’s unwilling teeth bit the peak of her breast he had been sucking, and then again on the swell above it. She flailed against him again getting her hands free of his grasp. She couldn’t help but try to push him away but she had no leverage. Ron’s hands now reached under her arse as he lifted her and sat her roughly onto the desk. Ron’s reluctant body forced her legs apart as he pushed himself against her as he returned to kissing her neck and shoulder. Hermione quit fighting against Ron, and just clung to him instead. He was too strong. She buried her face into his shoulder to hide her shame and fear. Trying to feel some sense of the Ron she loved inside the body that she knew so well.

   


Ron rose off of her little and their eyes met again, and she saw his were wet with sorrow, begging her forgiveness. His expressive eyes always conveyed so much more than what he spoke and they were screaming with anguish. His hand began to reach under dress, which was already forced up to the tops of her legs.

   


“No!” she screamed and she put her hands on the desk, trying to push herself away from him, but Malfoy’s reaction was quick enough and used Ron to stop her. Malfoy scolded sarcastically again, but she didn’t comprehend his lascivious words. All she knew was that Ron’s hands had pulled her back into his strong reach. Pressing one of her shoulders down with one hand, with the other he swiftly grabbed onto her knickers and pulled at them. Her hips felt the burn as the thin pieces of cotton pulled apart at the seams and were torn away from her. It was happening so fast. Her mind raced for some way to stop this, but the blood dripping from his slowly bleeding neck wound reminded her why she couldn’t. 

   


Ron’s body lay partially on top of her and he pushed closer into her, forcing her legs to part further around his waist. She felt as his fingers fumble up her thigh and near her entrance, and then force into her she tried to stifle her scream and shut her eyes tight against the nausea. Her interior was tight and dry and she could feel only tearing pain as Ron’s wayward fingers ravaged her pitilessly. She futilely pushed against Ron’s shoulders, while trying to block out the sounds of the pack chanting encouragement. She heard her own voice cry out again as she felt some tender tissue inside of her give way against the force of the abuse. She barely sensed the dampness of tears running down her face. 

   


Mercifully his hand withdrew from her and she felt him pull away slightly as his mindless hand fumbled to open his trousers. Darkness closed in on her mind, and she heard nothing but the pounding of her own heartbeat as she relented, accepting that she was powerless; believing she was about to be raped right here on this desk, by her own unwilling lover and friend, surrounded by these taunting monsters. She welcomed the darkness coming in from the edges, trying to let her mind dive into the hole that was growing in her conscience.

   
   


Then there was a sudden change in the air. Behind her closed eyelids she saw a flash of light, and opened them. There in the doorway was Harry, _Harry Potter,_ looking every part the powerful wizard he had grown into, and nothing like the little boy she had known.

   
   


~^~^~^

   
   


Harry didn’t need more than a second to survey the scene before him. Without even thinking about the incantations he uttered, the crowd of thugs were suddenly disarmed, immobilized and bound. The blaring music was silenced and every candle burned bright. 

   


The next instance Draco Malfoy was relieved of his wand. The moment the source of his power was gone, Ron’s hand was around his throat. Malfoy was nearly dangling against the wall behind him, turning pink under Ron’s grip.

   


Harry walked past Hermione, intentionally avoiding looking at her, and stood next to Ron while he watched his enemy struggling to breathe at the hand of his best friend. A wizard doesn’t die easily at the hands of another wizard. A dark place inside Harry had waited years to see Draco Malfoy suffer, he wouldn’t have a sorry cell in his body to witness him die. People change after fighting in a war. Malfoy’s arm struck in vain against Ron’s chokehold. He made a wheezing sound. He was turning a deeper shade of red.

   


“Ron.”

   


“Turn away if you need to, Harry.” Ron’s voice was raw and atypically cold. “I’m going to kill him.” 

   


“We need him, to testify.” Harry could hardly believe he was now playing a part of Malfoy’s defense, but he knew Ron was serious about killing him. He fully understood why, and didn’t blame Ron at all.

   


“ _Did you see_?!” Ron shouted and his fingers tightened around Malfoy’s neck as he glared at him.

   


“Yes. I did, and he’ll pay I swear, but you have to stop.” Malfoy was now turning a shade of purple and no longer made any sound. His eyes were watering.

   


“Let go Ron.” Ron’s hand only tightened.

   


Harry raised his wand and pointed it at Ron. 

   


“I’m telling you to release him now…I’m giving you an _order_. We need his testimony. I will stop you if you don’t.” Harry hated himself for acting the part.

   


The pressure Ron had on Malfoy’s throat remained steady. Malfoy’s eyes were glossing over and his arms now hung heavily at his sides. 

   


Harry, admitting defeat from his unwavering friend, lowered his wand and stepped closer to Ron, putting a diplomatic hand on his arm.

   


“Please don’t make me use magic against you, Ron.” Harry said quietly. The threat of magical force controlling his actions again seemed to be enough. Ron regretfully released his grip and Malfoy slumped onto the floor. Harry flicked his wand at him, grudgingly muttering “Anapneo” to ensure he started breathing again.

   


Ron took his own deep breath and looked up at the ceiling. Then, glancing down at himself, he set his jaw as he shamefully reached down to close his still opened trousers, avoiding looking at Harry. 

   


Harry looked away from Ron and turned to Hermione. She was standing in front of the desk behind them, barely able to hold her torn dress over her bosom, staring coldly at Malfoy’s collapsed form. Harry stooped quickly to retrieve what he assumed to be her torn knickers off the floor and Acciod the scattered buttons of her dress, stuffing them all into his pocket. He removed his black cloak and wrapped it around her, completely covering her from the neck down. He put his arm reassuringly around her shoulder.  

   


There was a shout from the entry way and Harry called out to them, and a moment later Lupin, Tonks and Kingsley entered the back of the study. 

   


Ron took a deep breath before turning to face them. 

   


“ ‘Mione,” he said softly as he held his hands out to her. When he took a step closer she flinched backward and cried out, turning to bury her face into Harry’s shoulder. Harry had never seen Ron look more hurt, _crushed_ , and Harry looked apologetically at him. Ron, horrified, ran fingers through his hair and choked back his own tears while stepping back.  He turned around back to Malfoy’s seated body. Taking two strides forward, releasing an anguished yell, he deftly brought up a knee in force, colliding with Malfoy’s face, blood burst from his nose and mouth. 

   


He turned back to Harry, who was holding Hermione the way he wanted to be doing. Without words, without using Legilimency, Harry understood Ron’s silent request. _Take care of her._ Harry nodded acceptance of his charge. Ron grabbed his wand from the desktop, and rushed from the room.

   


“Harry, is everything all right here?” Lupin asked cautiously from across the room. 

   


“Yes. Can you all confine them to the Ministry? I’ll get back to you later, alright?”

   


“That will be fine, we can manage.”

   


Harry summoned Hermione’s wand, tucked it into his back pocket, and he escorted her out of the room, her face still buried into his shoulder. She made it out of the room and into the foyer before giving into the darkness and Harry caught her in his arms when she fainted.

   


~^~^~^

   
   


_A/N To Good Ship lovers (and Draco fans) everywhere, I’m sorry. The chapter that follows is my favorite._

_Big Thanks to my sweet beta mrspadf00t1!_


	3. Washing It Away

  
Author's notes:

Harry's thoughts in italics.

* * *

 

The front door to the simple flat magically opened ahead of Harry as he carried Hermione in his arms and walked into the front room. He felt her body stiffen minutes earlier when she regained consciousness, but after a moment she went slack again and lolled her head onto his chest. The door swung shut behind them. He looked about the room and quietly muttered “Lumos”. Several candles throughout the room and down the hall before them set alight.

In the time that followed their Hogwarts days, he and his friends rarely spent the night in the same place twice in row. When they weren’t traveling, they might be at the Burrow, or the Order headquarters, or Lupin’s place or even in the flat above Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes. Harry had realized that he was too old to be sneaking around the other adults and into Ginny’s bedroom anymore and he needed a place they could escape to. Ron and Hermione were in the same situation, but as Harry was the only one with means to do something about it at present, he found a small flat to lease and of course gave them each a magical key. None of them lived here properly, but it belonged to Ron, Hermione, Ginny and himself all the same. It already harbored a few greatly needed pleasant memories for them all. 

Tonight though, would be different. Their little hideaway was going to harbor a dreadful memory now.

“Here we are now. You’re safe here,” Harry said as gently as he could muster. He had surprised himself in the past at finding the ability to speak with a soft, gentle voice, but that was only with the woman he loved, and that voice was usually reserved for her only. Now here he found himself, talking to one of his best friends, who normally challenged him and made him think twice as fast just to keep up with her. He knew her mind and spirit was at a breaking point right now and he didn’t want to be the one to push her past it.

“Let’s just set you down now, are you ready?” He spoke as if he was talking to a baby who you talk to with all the earnestness of another adult, but you know won’t be speaking back to you. Her knees buckled slightly as he set her to a stand but kept his arm firm around her back and under her arms. 

“I’ve got you, its all right, Love,” he coaxed as he steadied her. She had a foggy, pained expression on her face and kept her red and swollen eyes cast to the floor. She was still wrapped in Harry’s black cloak, completely concealing her, as it’s extra length gathered on the floor around her feet.

He cast a glance around the flat. When he had carried her out of Malfoy Manor he knew that this is where he would take her, but now that they were here he didn’t know just what exactly he should do. Harry had a long list of wizards and witches that he knew he could call on for assistance in various circumstances, but this situation was beyond his comprehension. He knew Hermione needed help from someone who could give her gentle care, but who could possibly help her with this?

“Now, er, I can owl Ginny real quick, Okay?” Harry said, “She’ll be here in no time. She’ll know what to do, Hermione.” That’s when he noticed that she had grabbed hold of his shirt. Without looking up at him she furrowed her brow and shook her head and pulled more urgently on his shirtfront. 

“Okay, shhh, okay” he acquiesced quickly, giving her a gentle embrace, “I guess, I… I understand, of course. You don’t want anyone else, to _know_.” A tear streamed down Hermione’s cheek. He felt so inadequate and his mind raced to figure out a way to handle this. He looked hard at his friend’s shamed face. No, all she needed was a friend, and of course, that would be him. He wiped her tear away.

“All right then,” he started bravely, trying to sound confident, “we don’t need anybody else, do we, you and I? We’ll get through this together.” He rubbed the sides of her dangling arms as if to keep her warm.

   


“Well now, let’s get you washed up, then? That’ll help right?” Harry held her around the shoulders tightly and slowly escorted her down the hall and into the washroom. With a wave of his wand, the overhead lamp flickered to life. He directed her near the bathtub at the far side of the room. He stood facing her and gave her a reassuring smile, though she didn’t return his look. 

“I’ll just take this now, okay?” he asked first, as he removed his own, much too long for her cloak. She was clutching the front of her torn dress together with both hands, her knuckles white. He closed his eyes to steady himself and fight off the red rage that coursed through him. The shreds of her dress stained with Ron’s blood made his heart pound and gave him a burn in the back of his throat. Only a few hours earlier she had looked so happy and quite beautiful, playfully teasing Ron. He remembered how it had warmed his heart to see them together, loving life and each other. 

“There, now, back up just a little bit, here,” he took her by the elbows and guided her into sitting down on the edge of the bathtub.  “I’ll just go make you a cup of that tea you girls like, it’s in the cupboard right? And you go ahead and take a bath and I’ll be right outside here, okay? Hermione?” She didn’t respond, and his nerves were quickly rising. He patted her on the arm before leaving the room and shutting the door behind him. Maybe he should get Ginny, or maybe Mrs. Weasley? _No, definitely not her_. He understood why Hermione didn’t want anyone else to know, for her sake, and for Ron’s. _Ron. No, I can’t think of him right now, I have to focus on Hermione._

He quickly set the kettle on to heat and rummaged through the kitchens’ meager cupboard. There was little more aside from Muggle cereal that Ginny liked to eat dry, chocolates, tinned sausages that belonged to Ron, and a package of spiced tea that both girls insisted that had to have to start a Sunday morning with. In another situation the sight of the oddly gathered food items would have elicited a grin and happy memories. Not now though. He prodded the water’s progress along with his wand and prepared the tea. He didn’t know how she strong she liked it, but he supposed it didn’t really matter right now anyway.

Harry shortly returned down the hall with the teacup in hand and knocked quietly on the door. 

  
”Hermione? I haven’t heard the water run yet, are you okay?” He knocked again. There was no answer. He took a deep breath.

“I’m going to open the door now. I’m coming in.” Harry slowly opened the bath door and cautiously peeked inside. Hermione was still sitting just as he had left her, on the edge of the tub, still clutching her tattered dress, staring blankly at the tile floor. 

“Oh, Hermione,” Harry sighed, as he entered the room. _Merlin help me know what to do._ Setting the teacup and his wand on the counter beside the sink,he kneeled down in front of her and looked into her face. 

“Well, I guess I can just lend a hand then.” He shuffled over to the tub faucet and began running the water, while plugging the drain stopper. Then he turned back to Hermione. He recognized the expression on her face. He had seen it too many times in recent years. It was the look of someone in shock. He was also accustomed to the feeling of guilt, it had been building inside of him since he first entered the Malfoy’s library and witnessed that awful sight, not an even a hour earlier. He still didn’t know why Ron and Hermione had gone into the house alone, why they hadn’t waited for him, and he didn’t know exactly how things had gone the way they had inside.  But now he was left to put the broken pieces back together, two of which were his best friends.

“I’ll just, start with these then, all right?” he pointed hesitantly at her boots. Still on his knees in front of her, he clumsily, but carefully, found the zipper just below and inside her knee and removed her boot, and then removed the sheer stocking that was underneath it. He used just his fingertips in effort to touch her bare leg as little as possible.

“There, that was easy enough, yeah?” Harry was starting to realize that Hermione wasn’t going to respond to him at all. That didn’t really matter to him now. He needed to make up for the haunting silence she created with something, even if it was his own voice. She trembled slightly and hiccupped down a sob that refused to come out, not shifting her blank gaze from the floor next to him.

“Here we go then, I’ll just help you with the other one now,” he said as he unzipped and removed her remaining boot and stocking.  “I’ll check the water. Yeah, it feels perfect.  I think you’ll be comfortable in it.” Harry winced. _What a stupid thing that was to say, nothing about this scenario is the least bit comfortable._ He stood and faltered momentarily before continuing. 

“Well let’s just, ah, turn you around a bit, here.” He gently pulled her shoulders against him to steady her as he swiveled her body around toward the bathtub. She helped slightly by raising her feet over the edge and into the water.  He knew a part of Hermione’s conscience was there, but not all of her, not yet. A part of her was withdrawn deep inside her mind, not ready to deal with reality yet. 

“Warm enough?” He received nothing but the expected silence. He was beginning to think he had never felt so alone with another person in his life. His mind continued to battle with rage over what had brought them to this point and stuffed it down for the calm he now needed. Achieving calm was usually a losing battle for him to muster, he’d been building his rage for years, and ‘calm’ was difficult for him. _I have to keep it together, for her, and for him._

Harry then sat next to her on the tub’s edge, each facing opposite directions. He leaned back and stopped the water tap. The small bathroom was now filled with a deafening quiet, save for the last few drops splashing into the water. Harry nervously scratched at his forehead and pulled at his collar. He wondered how he could have developed so much magical power by now, and yet still be so awkward? _I thought powerful wizards were supposed to be wise as well?_ He felt like a teenager again. Staring strait ahead he struggled with how exactly to proceed. _Maybe a bath was a bad idea after all?_ He glanced sideways at her. _No, it’s necessary, I can smell the Firewhiskey on her skin, and she’s a mess. Damn them all… No, don’t go thinking of that just now._

“Right. Hermione, I reckon we’ve been through a lot over the years and, I’m going to assume you trust me well enough? Yes?” he spoke as softly as he could. Glancing at the front of her dress that she was still holding onto to. There were only two small buttons at her waist that remained intact. “I’m just going to, er, um, un-do these two right here, Okay?” he asked, seeking some semblance of permission before he hesitantly reached over and waved his hand over the front of her two remaining buttons and magically unfastened them. Hermione hiccupped another tearless sob. Harry’s heart was breaking. 

He stood up and standing behind her, he gently put his hands on her shoulders and leaned over her and pressed a soft kiss on the top of her head. As reassuringly as he could, he spoke into her ear, “It’s just us here now, Hermione, me and you. We’ve been friends since we were kids. I love you like you’re my sister.  You know that right? I know you feel the same way.” He squeezed her shoulders in assurance, and steadied himself. 

“I’ll take these off nice and easy, agreed? It’ll be okay, I promise,” and with that he stood upright again and blowing out slowly, he began to peel the dress back off of her shoulders, along with the straps of her torn bra underneath. She resisted for only a moment and then cautiously released her grip on the dress she had been holding closed. Harry cast his eyes to the side, trying to see little of her as he absolutely needed. Letting the dress fall to the floor at his feet he looked up at the ceiling as he took her by the elbows and carefully lifted and settled her into the water. Harry half turned away to let her situate herself and he took another deep breath. _This is madness. How can I be doing this?_

Hermione sat in the warm water with her knees bent to her chest and wrapping her arms around her legs she rested her cheek on one knee, facing the wall away from Harry.

Harry sat back down on the side of the bathtub and finally looked at his friend. As awkward as he felt just before, seeing her like this erased all the childishness of being uncomfortable. It wasn’t just her body that was naked before him now, but her very psyche that had been torn open and was lying exposed in front of him. He realized now, in this moment that her sorrow and hurt transcended any embarrassment either of them could feel. She needed her friend and he wasn’t going to let her down. He simply loved her, just like he loved Ron. It actually wasn’t very complicated at all.

He looked about the room and sought an empty wine goblet on the counter top. He picked it up and scooped some bath water into it. 

“I’m just going to help you rinse off a bit, that’s all,” he stated, just in case she was listening. Words seemed hollow and unnecessary at this point. 

Hermione was such a beautiful young woman now. He wasn’t blind, he could see that much. But for some reason, he hadn’t developed any attraction for her. Sitting next to her now, he wouldn’t let his eyes focus on what he could see of her body, the outline of round her breasts, the curve of her bottom… Ron was a lucky bloke. To Harry though, Hermione was just a friend, clever, loyal, invaluable to him in so many ways. He knew she became a pretty girl somewhere about the time they were fifteen, he even remembered with a little private embarrassment wanking to thoughts of her once, but as it turned out, thoughts of Hermione didn’t work for him. He shook his head and rolled his eyes at his memory. He could hardly blame himself for the silly things he did as a teenager so long ago.

As he poured cup after cup of water over Hermione’s hair and body, washing away the filth, seen and unseen, Harry’s mind wandered to the wine goblet in his hand. The mate to it was sitting on the countertop, both left there from a night spent with Ginny just a few days earlier, in this very bathtub. He could vividly recall the sweet image of her sitting in front of him nestled into his chest, while he washed her hair and kissed her neck and soft earlobes. The scent of the bubbles and soap was still faint in the room. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes, letting the flowery scent prod his memory of it further. Ginny turned around to face him, and sliding onto his lap. She returned the favor and washed his hair while he enjoyed the view of bubbles dripping off of her breasts. She rocked on top of him to a very satisfying completion right after that. It wasn’t just brilliant sex he was thinking of, but of the connection to his better side, his normal side, that making love with Ginny gave him. When their bodies joined, so did their hearts and minds, and it was a deeper bond than he’d ever known. Perhaps best of all, it had nothing to do with magic, his powers or hers. It was just simply Harry and Ginny, two people sharing their love and receiving acceptance. 

Harry shook himself out of his reverie; he was relying on Ginny’s connection in his mind to give him strength. 

He saw Hermione’s hand, stained with Ron’s blood. It was dried between her fingers and around the nails. Harry got onto his knees and soaked her soiled hand and rubbed it over and over until the blood was no longer visible. Then he kissed her hand. “I’m so sorry.”

Hermione shivered and goose bumps ran down her back. She quaked again with a silent sob.

“Water getting cold now? Sorry I forgot to put a Warming charm on it.” S _hould have thought of that_ , he told himself. “I think it’s time to get you out of here now anyhow.”

He released the plug and the water began to drain. Harry reached for a bath towel where they lay in a large basket on the floor. He shook the towel open and stood while the remains of the water swirled down the drain. Hermione remained in her seated position but began to tremble with cold as she sat nude on the bottom of the empty tub.

“Okay, Hermione,” Harry started gently, “I’m going to need some help now all right?” He wrapped the towel around her back and guided the towel under her arms, “here you go, take it.” She followed his instructions and held the towel in front of her chest. _Maybe I’m starting to get through to her?_ Then setting his hands along her sides he lifted and guided her to a stand 

“There we are now, step over the edge, come on.” Hermione stood facing Harry now, and he gave her another reassuring smile, her eyes still looking distantly to the side. For the first time, Harry noticed that her bottom lip was swollen and slightly bruised. He retrieved his wand and ran it over her mouth and the skin returned to normal color. Learning to heal wounds was something he had learned and used many times by now.

He set his wand aside again and unrolled another towel. He laid it over Hermione’s head and squeezed her hair to absorb the moisture. Then settling the towel on her shoulder and used a corner to pat dry her neck and shoulders and then to dry another single tear that escaped her eye. As he tossed the towel to the floor, he noticed another dark discoloration peeking above the towel she was holding around her torso. On top of her left breast, at the swell that curved there, was an unmistakably a bite mark and bruising was surrounding it. Harry clenched his jaw and fought down his anger and the bile rising in the back of his throat again. He did his best keep his face neutral. He couldn’t help but think of Ron. He could only imagine what he was suffering right now. _Stay focused on Hermione, that’s what Ron wanted_. He rubbed a hand over his face and mouth to keep control of his expression. He took another deep breath as he picked up his wand again, and ran it over her wounded breast, with a neutral expression. Then he felt really thick and horrified when another thought finally occurred to him. 

“Hermione,” he questioned carefully, troubled by the response he would get, “are you hurt, uh, _other places_ , as well?” He wasn’t sure if he would get an acknowledgement from her, but he already knew the answer anyway. _Why didn’t I think of it before?_ She did acknowledge his question though. Her eye’s flickered from their fixed gaze and her bottom lip quivered, and Hermione ever so slightly nodded her head. Harry closed his eyes, and though he tried, he knew he failed at trying to maintain a composed expression. He chewed his bottom lip for just a moment and then completed what he needed to do. 

“It’s all right,” was all he said, and with great care he steadily pulled open the towel she was clutching, willing himself to see as little as he possibly could, he circled his wand in the air in front of the junction between her legs, healing the wounds he knew were there. _Don’t think about it. Don’t think about Ron yet._ He then closed her towel and put his wand into his back pocket. 

Two more large teardrops rolled down Hermione’s blushing cheeks and she hiccupped once more, but stifled her cry and embarrassment. Harry clutched her shoulders and pulled her into a brotherly embrace and kissed the side of her wet head. 

“I’m sorry, Hermione, but don’t think on it” he told her urgently. “Let’s go find you something to wear.”

He guided her back down the hall, with his head still bent to hers, to the room that Ron and Hermione shared when they were there. Harry had actually hardly ever been in this room. He knew it was their private space in the world, just like he had with Ginny down the hall. Harry settled Hermione on the edge of the bed and went to the small chest of drawers to look for some clothes. The top drawer contained a few of Hermione’s undergarments and two nightgowns. Everything was folded neatly, _even the knickers_ he thought, such a very Hermione thing to do, it didn’t really surprise him. Neither of the nightgowns was right though, one was a dark pink satiny fabric that he imagined Ron rather enjoyed on her, and the other was white with tiny happy yellow flowers on it and thin little shoulder straps. _No, certainly not appropriate_. 

The next drawer had some of Ron’s things, some spare socks, underwear and t-shirts. All these were folded neatly too, which of course also would have been Hermione’s doing. He took out a plain gray t-shirt from Ron’s drawer. Harry even remembered this one. It had been in Ron’s assortment of clothes since at least fifth year. It was worn and thin and looked very comfortable. He even remembered wearing it himself a time or two. Yes, he could put Hermione in this. 

He crossed back to her on the bed and slipped the t-shirt over her head and down her shoulders. “I thought you might like this one,” he said plainly. Under the shirt, she released the towel and put her arms through the overly large sleeves. 

Her gaze focused on the fabric and she stroked it softly. Her breath hitched and her shoulders heaved and she let out a cry, meeting Harry’s eyes for the first time.

“Oh Harry, where is Ron? You’ve got to find him, he must be so, so…” she stammered, “and he’s hurt too.”

“Shhh – no, no, he’s going to be okay,” he comforted, taking her head in his hands, and giving her a reassuring smile, _do I even believe what I’m saying?_  “I’ll look after Ron later, I promise. Right now, we just take care of you okay?”

Hermione looked desperate, thoughts clearly running through her now. She grasped at his forearms in earnest, “He tried Harry, he really did!” she pressed, and her eyes overflowed with tears, “You would have been proud of him. I saw it in his eyes, he was there, fighting the Imperius as best he could.”

“I know he did, Hermione, I know.” He embraced her again, and rocked her gently.

“I’m sorry we didn’t wait for you,” she continued, “we thought we’d missed you and that you had gone in alone, and, and then,” her sobs halting her words, “Draco wasn’t alone, there were so many, and, and I, it’s all my fault!”

“No, none of it is your fault!” he countered, finally starting to get a grasp for what had happened earlier, feeling his old companion _guilt_ creeping into his conscience. _Bugger, they were there because of me!_

“We fought and Ron was doing so well, really he was.” she closed her eyes shaking her head, “Draco wouldn’t have had the chance to curse him if he hadn’t been distracted by me. I’m so sorry.”

Harry continued to rock her gently. “You have nothing to apologize for.” He looked into her face to coax some understanding out of her. “What happened wasn’t your fault, all right? You did nothing wrong.” Hermione sniffed and quieted herself.

“Come lay down and rest, Hermione, come here” he pulled back the bed covers for her and patted the head of the bed for her to come lay down. She stood, and with the hem of Ron’s t-shirt falling nearly to her knees, she crawled into the place Harry indicated. This was Ron’s side of the bed when he was there with her. She nestled her head onto his pillow smelling for some trace of Ron’s scent. Tears fell steadily down her cheeks while Harry covered her with the blankets. He looked at the empty chair nearby and made to sit in it.

“Harry?” Hermione said quietly, raising herself up slightly, “will you? Would you mind?” her voice dropped to a whisper, “lay here with me?”

Harry nodded and gave her slight smile.

He went around to the other side of the bed, sat down and removed his shoes. Then he hoisted himself back onto the bed next to Hermione. _Ron’s bed. Ron’s girlfriend, he should be here with her._ He took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes before replacing them. Sighing and running his hands through his hair, Harry rolled onto his side behind Hermione, she under the covers and him above them. He put his arm protectively over her and gave her a squeeze. She trembled and sniffed again.

“I wish he was here,” she said in a whisper.

“I know, so do I.” _I wish Ginny were here too._

__

He held her like that for hours as the night passed. Holding her quietly while she cried, until she fell asleep in the wee hours of the morning. Harry stayed true to his promise to Ron. He watched over her, and took care of her as best as he knew how.  

~^~^~^

   


I hope this started to make you feel better about the last chapter! I really appreciate you taking the time to review. Big thanks to my sweet beta mrspadf00t1!


	4. Reluctant Night

The nighttime sky seemed reluctant to give way to another cheerful blue morning. It seemed to know what the darkness was shrouding. However, as it always had, even in the darkest of times, the inky sky slowly ebbed into muted indigo before the sun had even come up.  
   
Harry jerked to sudden alertness after nodding off again. His body and mind ached with fatigue, but he couldn’t give in yet. He looked at Hermione who lay in front of him. His arm had gone numb as it lay over her waist. He knew she must finally be asleep because she was no longer holding his hand as she had all night long.  
   
His senses roused him out of his thoughts, realizing what must have coaxed him awake the moment before. Someone was coming. The magic in the protective wards that he had set about the flat was alerting him. No worries, this visitor had a key – Ginny. He heard the door click, and though his face wouldn’t show it, he smiled.  
   
When Ginny opened the door her anxiety level was already high. She started down the hall to make for Harry’s room, passing the open doorway to the room that Ron and Hermione used. She had nearly passed it when the figures on the bed in the room stopped her in her tracks. Immediately, irritation added to her exhaustion and fear.  
   
Harry looked up and gave her something of a nod of acknowledgment.  Ginny watched perplexed from the hall as he cautiously untangled himself from Hermione, careful not to wake her, and rolled off the bed. He picked up his shoes and wand and came towards her, pulling the bedroom door partly closed behind him.  
   
The look on her face told him she had many unanswered questions; ‘are you hurt?’  ‘Is  Hermione hurt?’ ‘Why on earth were you sleeping on her bed?’ ‘What the hell Harry?!’  
   
Understanding all the questions forming behind her eyes he put one leaden arm around her in an embrace and pressed his lips to her forehead, and remained there, filling his senses with her presence.  
   
“I know, I’m sorry.” It was a weak explanation, but he didn’t know how else to start.  
   
“Where is Ron?” she asked, looking at up him. “His hand on Mum’s clock has been on Lost for hours.” Harry nodded as though this didn’t surprise him.  
   
“I think I know where he might be, I’m going there now.”  
   
“I stayed up all night watching that stupid clock. I thought you’d send a note or show up, but once it started getting light I just couldn’t sit there anymore.” She ran her hands through his tousled hair and stroked the stubble along his jaw. He looked so tired, but more than that, he looked miserable.

“What is it? Can I help?” Ginny asked.  
   
Harry put his hand over hers, which was gently touching his cheek and turned it over to kiss her palm.  
   
“Thank you.”  It was thanks for more than just her offer of help. It was for showing up right then, for not being angry with him for finding him in bed next to Hermione, or pressing for more than he could say right now. For being so perfect for him. “I don’t deserve you.”  
   
“Shut up Harry, don’t start that.” The words were harsh, but the tone was loving.  
   
“Can you keep an eye on her for awhile? I don’t want her to wake up alone. Hopefully she’ll stay sleep anyway. I’m going for Ron. I’ll bring him back here if I can. And then I’ve still got to meet with Lupin too-“ his words were cut off by a yawn.  
   
“Harry, is Ron hurt?”  
   
“Not physically too bad I don’t think. It all went wrong last night; it didn’t go like I thought it would. Ron and Hermione, they just….had a really hard time.” He saw Ginny’s furrowed brow and he knew his explanation was lame, but as he had so many times before, he could count on the fact that she’d accept it for now. “Just don’t ask her to talk about it if she wakes up okay?” She nodded.  
   
   
~^~^~^  
   
   
Harry licked his lips and swallowed hard as he took his first steps into the entryway of Number Twelve Grimmauld Place. It still seemed as though it might be haunted by Sirius’ tortured soul. The thought never failed to tug at Harry’s heart. Sirius had now been gone from his life for as long as he had been a part of it. He often wondered what it would have been like to go from a child-to-guardian relationship into a man-to-man friendship with his Godfather; he’d never get to know. Harry hadn’t been here since the house had been finally cleaned out after the destruction of Horcruxes. Even though it was rid of most of its dark objects and curses, it was still the most depressing place Harry could think of. That’s why he was here.  
   
Harry observed the glow of firelight coming from the kitchen and he was now certain that he had come to the right place. As he entered doorway at the end of the hall, he saw exactly what he had expected. Ron was slumped into a large padded armchair that Sirius’ had often sat in, staring into the same hearth that Ron was now staring into. Ron’s eyes were red and swollen and a nearly empty bottle of whiskey was clutched in hand with his wand in his other. His shirt was wrinkled and blood stained around the neck and shoulder. He hardly looked like the same friend he had teased in Diagon Alley just last night.  
   
Harry paused in the doorway for a moment, making his presence known.  Ron had become equally as dangerous to sneak up upon as himself. Then he noticed the destruction to the kitchen. The long table was cracked in two, every chair was smashed and several cupboard doors were hanging off their hinges or broken, along with the crockery inside. By the looks of Ron’s swollen and bloodied knuckles, the damage had not been done by wand alone.  
   
Harry walked carefully through the debris and with a swirl of his wand, he repaired a straight-backed chair and it settled in place opposite Ron in front of the fire.  
   
As Harry sat, he put a consoling hand on Ron’s knee for just a moment before placing his elbows on his own knees and stared at the floor between his feet. He was starting to feel weak with fatigue. Looking after Hermione, hurt and in shock last night had been terrible; but if possible, seeing his best mate like this was worse.  As they had grown into manhood together, Ron had become taller and though Harry could hold his own in a fight, Ron was stronger too. Ron had the heart, loyalty and strength of their old house mascot, and seeing him broken like this was painful.  
   
Harry was thankful that Ron broke the silence first.  
   
“Is? How is she?” His voice was ragged.  
   
Harry raised his head to meet Ron’s, but Ron was still watching the fire.  
   
“She’s better now, fell asleep a little while ago. I left Ginny there with her, at the flat.”  
   
“Does Ginny know?”  
   
“No.” He could see Ron struggling for words.  
   
“Herm, Hermione was, hurt.”  
   
“Yeah. Healing charms fixed all that.”  
   
“But?” Ron winced at his own inquiry, and as much as Harry hated this, he had to be honest with Ron.  
   
“I, I took care of it” Harry admitted.  
   
“You? But, she had to have….” and Ron made a vague gesture over his own lap.  
   
“Yes, I took care of all of that” Harry tried to sound casual and comforting if possible.  
   
“Oh fuck all, Harry,” moaned Ron as he put a hand over his eyes. Harry thought it had been awkward enough with Hermione herself, but telling Ron was more uncomfortable.  
   
“I’m sorry, but what could I do? Take her to ‘Mungo’s? Or Tonks? Your Mum?”  
   
Ron shook his head, hand still hiding his expression behind his hand.  
   
“No. You were right to do it.  Bugger.” Ron mumbled. “Thanks. I guess.”  
   
A minute passed before either could bring themselves to speak words again.  
   
“She misses you. Come on back with me, Ron.”  
   
“No.”  
   
“This doesn’t change how she feels about you.”  
   
“No, I can’t.”  
   
“It’s going to be okay-“  
   
“No! It won’t!”  
   
Harry was ashamed of himself. People had been saying that tactless sentence to him for years and it was always said precisely when things would never be okay.  
   
“I know, I’m sorry, that was a stupid thing to say.” Harry said.  
   
Ron covered his face with both hands and let out a single muffled sob, and took a deep breath. He sat up and took a long drink of whiskey, wiped his eyes and nose with the back of his shirtsleeve and resumed looking into the fire.  
   
To avoid watching Ron drown his sorrows, Harry looked around the room.  
   
“Sorry ‘bout your kitchen, Mate,” Ron said.  
   
“Don’t worry about it, nothing we can’t fix.”  
   
Ron began refilling the bottle with the amber drink using his wand.  
   
“How many times have you refilled that?” Harry asked. Not that he begrudged Ron getting pissed off his arse right now.  
   
“Dunno. If memory serves; you showed me how.” Ron made a smile, but it wasn’t a real Ron smile, it was something forced that looked entirely unnatural on him. “Besides, if it weren’t for this,” he held up the bottle, “I wouldn’t be able to look you in the face right now.” When the bottle was full again, Ron took another swig, and made a throat clearing sound as he swallowed. Then resumed his focus on the flames.  
   
“You don’t need to feel that way. You aren’t to blame for what happened. You know that people have done terrible things under the Imperius Curse but what they do isn’t their fault.”  
   
“Well it’s not something you’ll ever know about will you? Doing ‘terrible things’?” Ron’s voice was shaking and he closed his eyes to continue.  
   
“You can just fight it off can’t you? Just another perk of your scar? Fucking inherited magical power and all that shit!” Harry braced himself to take the brunt of Ron’s hurt. It wouldn’t be the first time one had abused the other when there was nowhere else to let it out. He knew Ron didn’t really mean it. “Makes you so much better than the rest of us. And stupid Ron Weasley can’t even keep his own girl safe, has to have Harry Potter save his sorry arse again. So what’s this make? Five? Six times?”  
   
“Shut it Ron, this doesn’t help.” Harry responded dryly. “I’m really sorry I left you with the impression that I’d do something rash. I know you were there to back me up. I’m, sorry.” Harry expected a continuing assault, but instead saw Ron sag under his words.  
   
“I tried Harry. I really tried to fight it. I could see what was happening, I could hear it all. Son of a bitch I could hear her begging me to be stronger. I could even feel everything but bloody hell I just couldn’t stop it. I wasn’t strong enough. And now, I can’t see my way out of this. I’ve tried to see it through and there’s just no way to go on.”  
   
“Just go back to her. Come back with me, you two will work it through like you always do.”  
   
“Yeah? You really think so? So what’s the appropriate greeting for this then eh? Ah, ‘sorry about the minor sexual assault last night love – mind a spot of tea with breakfast?’ No, I don’t think so.” He let out a mocking, stress relieving little laugh that cut through the quiet house.  
   
“Of course not like that, but I don’t know. You and her always come out all right in the end. This’ll be no different.”  
   
“How can we now? Merlin, I wish it were true, I still want it all. I want to marry the girl, and have a family – the whole picture, but that’s not possible after this.”  
   
Harry didn’t know what else to say. He didn’t have any wise words of comfort for this. He aimlessly looked about the room. He noticed for the first time the chessboard on the hearthstone. Ron had obviously led the black in a vicious slaughter against the white. The little white-haired heads of the defeated side had all been decapitated and stuck onto the ends of spears, which now lined the edge of the board. A few remaining black pieces were finishing their task of dismembering the headless bodies. Harry wondered for a moment what Hermione would say about this show of barbarism but he understood the deeper meaning this display carried.  
   
“Ron, he will suffer for what he did – I swear it. He’s being detained right now, and will probably make a plea for a short release, but I swear we’ll get to him before it’s over. Malfoy won’t get away with this.”  
   
“I know.” There was a cold resolute tone to Ron’s voice that didn’t escape Harry’s notice.  “There’s something more than that though. I need to ask you to do something Harry.” Harry turned to face Ron. He’d do anything for him, but hadn’t expected any requests.  
   
“Yeah, whatever it is, name it.”  
   
“The lot that was there last night. Malfoy’s, what? Friends?”  
   
“Right, they’ll be in custody too.”  
   
“They all watched, what happened.” Ron spoke very quietly, took another drink and absently picked at a spot on his trousers. “They laughed at her Harry, they laughed while she cried, and they laughed while she was, hurting.” The last word came out in a whisper and Ron blinked hard. “They can’t be allowed to remember that. But you can fix it, Harry. You can get close enough to them to alter their memories. I’d live with it if it was just my own shame, but they can’t be allowed to remember her like that. The sick bastards. Please Harry, do this.”  
   
“Yes, I’ll do it.” Harry wasn’t going to let Ron beg. He understood perfectly. “I’m not sure how but yes, I can do that. I’ve never altered the memories of wizards before, only Muggles like your dad taught me, but I know how it’s supposed to be done.”  
   
Ron closed his eyes and took a deep breath, and slumped a little further into his chair. Harry stood and started to take the bottle from Ron. Ron’s grip tightened on the bottle and he opened his heavily lidded eyes.  
   
“Let it go,” Harry said, “you don’t need it anymore. Get some sleep, Mate.”

Ron nodded once, closed his eyes and sunk into a troubled sleep.   
~^~^~^  
   
 _A/N I really appreciate all the kind reviews! They keep me inspired.  
_ _On a side note; this chapter and nearly the whole story was inspired by the song Hate Me by Blue October. So if you want to wallow in Ron’s misery with him, download and listen.  
_ _I’m grateful to my doll of a beta mrspadf00t1, who treats me gently._ _  
_ _The next chapter is on its way soon!_  



	5. Balance

  
Author's notes:

I'm sorry, this one is a bit on the short side, but I think the next chapter will redeem me. :)

* * *

The sound of the front door opening forced Hermione out of a burdened sleep. When she opened her eyes the bright mid-morning sun streaming around the shutters over the window blinded her momentarily. Sitting up took effort, her body felt heavy with fatigue. She figured she has only slept about 4 hours. Her stomach turned when assorted snap shot memories of what happened the night before flashed behind her closed eyes; the slap against her cheek - the sound of fabric tearing - howling laughter - pain – worried blue eyes. Her eyes tightened at the memory to focus on the reality before her.  
   
She could sense the protective magical barriers resume after she heard the front door close, and someone walking down the hall. All she could think of was flinging herself into Ron’s arms, feeling safe and warm and whole again.  
   
Her bedroom door was still ajar and she yanked it open, rushing into the hall. She slammed right into Harry.  
   
“Umph -whoa, there,” Harry said gently, holding onto her upper arms to keep them both from toppling over.  
   
Hermione looked past him, down the hall, her heart sank when she saw no one else.  
   
“It’s just me. I’m sorry,” Harry told her. Hermione sunk into Harry’s embrace with disappointment, leaning her forehead onto his chest. He patted her back affectionately.  
   
She immediately felt very exposed against Harry. Still clad in only Ron’s thin gray t-shirt she was completely covered; however, without a bra on it felt very inappropriate to be hugging Harry. The cool air on her bare legs sharply reminded her she wasn’t wearing any knickers either. The feeling brought back the blurry memory of last night in the bath, and how Harry had cared for her.  
   
She took a step back from him and hugged her arms in front of her chest. She couldn’t bring herself to meet his eyes, but she spoke with as much composure as she could.  
   
“I thought you were –did you find him?”  
   
“Yeah, he’s at Number 12. He’s all right. Well you know…mostly. I was there a few hours ago. He’s really... he just wasn’t ready to come back yet.”  
   
Hermione nodded and absent-mindedly picked at the shirt seam on her shoulder.  
   
“Hermione, are you okay? Can I do something?”  
   
“No, no I’m fine.”  
   
They stood awkwardly in silence together for a moment. Hermione didn’t have to look at Harry’s face to know that he was searching hers for reassurance. She couldn’t bear the scrutiny. She turned and went back into her room.  
She immediately felt badly for walking away from Harry like that. None of this was his fault and he was trying so hard to help.  
 “Harry?” She called to him before he made it his own room He turned around to her.  
“Thank you, for everything last night. I’m sorry. I’m not upset with you or anything.”  
   
Harry returned to her and kissed her on the forehead.  
   
“Nah, it’s all right. Please don’t worry about last night - the you and me part. If we can’t have our Weasley we help each other, yeah?”  
   
She smiled feebly and looked up at him for the first time. He looked so tired. His face was pale and his eyes were red and shadowed. She had of course, seen him look much worse. At times during the war when he was injured, battle weary, and had no sleep for days. This time, however, she knew she was the chief cause of his haggard appearance.  
   
“Oh, you still haven’t slept at all yet. I’m sorry, Harry, you go to bed now. I’ll be fine.”  
   
“Are you sure? I thought we might kip for awhile and then I’d go try to get him later.” Even as Harry spoke an uncontrolled yawn overtook him.  
   
“No, I’ll be fine. Go to bed. I know where to find you I if I need you.” Harry was too tired to argue. He knew he needed to sleep well today because he’d be up all night again. There were still loose ends to tie up. The only thing Ron had asked of him.  
   
~^~^~^  
   
Harry shut the bedroom door behind him. Nearly dead on his feet, every movement his body made took immense effort as he was beginning to tremble with exhaustion.  
   
He could see Ginny’s red hair cast over the pillows, her delicate, creamy arm wrapped around his pillow. He felt the surge of emotion well up at the sight of her.  
   
He disrobed as he walked toward the bed, letting his robe and shirt fall along his path across the room. He kicked off his shoes, and tugged off his socks in two more steps.  
   
Ginny shifted her body and her breathing pattern changed. She woke and her eyes fell on him immediately. Harry’s heart clenched with the ache that her sleepy smile granted him.  
   
“Hi,” she whispered. “Oh Harry, you look so worn out.” Ginny pushed up onto her elbow.  
   
“Yeah,” he laughed weakly as he took off his remaining trousers and shorts, a completely innocuous action. Harry preferred to sleep nude whenever possible.  
   
“Do you need to eat?” she asked.  
   
“No, just need to sleep. With you.” He’d gone nearly two days without sleeping. He could feel his heart pounding from the sheer adrenaline that had kept him on his feet but it was waning. He had to succumb to his body’s need soon, and it would either be giving in to sleep, or unconsciousness.  
   
“Are you sure? I picked up some food earlier –“  
   
“No. No, thank you, Gin,” Harry said, climbing into bed. Feeling his body shudder with gratitude at the relief from standing. “I really just need to sleep… missed you.” He leaned in and kissed her sweetly on the lips as he moved in closer.  
   
“It was bad wasn’t it?” she asked, observing his tired features. He was avoiding eye contact with her. “What happened to Ron and Hermione, it was bad? Can’t you tell me?”  
   
“Later, Love, not now.” Harry said, slipping his arms around her. He avoided her eyes feeling guilty for keeping information from her. “I just don’t want to think about it anymore, I’m sorry.”  
   
“Okay, I understand.” They started to lie back into each other’s arms, but Harry stopped frowning at her.  
   
“Off,” he said gently, already removing her top, “Just want to feel all of you. Nothing between us.” She gave him an understanding smile as she raised her arms, letting him strip her of her shirt.  
   
She lay back against the pillows and hugged Harry close as he laid his head onto her chest. Their bare bodies side by side, with his leg thrown over hers, he tried to let her strength and love wash over him.   
   
Harry sighed deeply which turned into a yawn. The comfort of being safe with his face nestled chastely between Ginny’s breasts was luring him into much needed rest.  
   
Ginny held him close. Stroking the troubled crease between his eyes. She ran her hands over his shoulders and upper arms until she felt his weight sink heavily onto her as he slept. “I love you so much,” she whispered, and then she closed her eyes and fell back to sleep along with him.  
   
~^~^~^  
   
Hermione didn’t try to keep quiet as she entered the kitchen of Number 12 Grimmauld Place. She had not expected the destruction she found in the kitchen. For an instant she was alarmed, wondering what had happened. Then it occurred to her, of course, Ron had happened.  
   
In general, Ron no longer had the short temper he had during his youth. It took a lot to get his ire up these days.  
   
He had grown up so much since that time. When the three of them left school, in spite of facing uncertainty and danger, it had been the best thing for Ron. He no longer had the pressure of attaining marks, or house points, studying for exams, or performing Prefect duties. No longer immersed in an environment where he was ashamed of his shabby wardrobe, or felt the pressure of the accomplishments of his siblings and friends. He grew into a confident man, free to laugh and curse and sleep and eat whenever he was able to. He had such love for the truly important things in life, and even Hermione had to admit, a school environment is hardly like real life. For the most part at least, Ron’s life was on his terms, and not dictated by a school bell or his mother’s niggling. Hermione had fallen in love with the man he became. She had always loved him, in a singular way a little different than the love she felt for Harry. During the following years she watched Ron become a strong man, a commanding wizard in his own right. That was who she loved, who she would fight for.  
   
Here he was before her now, this brave and loyal wizard. He was slumped low in the big armchair by the fireplace. His head tilted off to the side, she could tell he would have a sore neck later from the odd angle. Walking closer to him, she saw his bloodied knuckles. She could easily envision the rage he flew into when he destroyed the room. He used his wand, and when that wasn’t enough, he used his fists, and when that didn’t get rid of his pain and sorrow, he tried to drown it, seeing the empty bottle on the floor next to the chair.  
   
Hermione kneeled in front of him and took his hands in hers. “Oh Ron,” she whispered, as she kissed the now dried injuries on his hands.  
   
The touch of her breath on his skin roused him out of his whiskey and grief- induced stupor. He turned his hand over and cupped her cheek, an unconscious action that woke him completely. Ron quickly opened his eyes and his body tensed. He pulled away withdrawing his hands from her and he sat completely upright back into the large chair.  
   
Hermione took a breath as if to speak, but not finding any of the right words, remained silent.  
   
Ron rubbed his eyes and face roughly with his palms, trying to wake himself further. He looked down at Hermione, still kneeling between his knees, not daring to make eye contact with her. Her hair was a mess of thick, fuzzy curls and he knew it was from her going to bed with wet hair. As though fearing his touch would hurt her, he fought back the desire to reach out and touch her as he always did. He knew her so intimately, but now felt so separated from her.  
   
When Hermione looked up to his face, he averted his eyes, afraid of what he would see there. He spoke in a hoarse whisper, “’Mione, what are you doing here?” he cleared his throat, wishing for another drink.  
   
“Where else would I be?” she asked. “You didn’t come to me, so I came to get you.” As simple as that. Ron furrowed his brow and he tried to speak, but found he couldn’t. His head was pounding with lack of sleep and too much anger and whiskey.  
   
It had been a long time since there had been awkward silences between them. They always had something to say to each other. They shared everything, from their thoughts and plans to their deepest fears. Now the quiet was almost as haunting as the memory of what happened the night before.  
   
Hermione found her resolve first. Always in perpetual motion, she needed something to do, a task to focus on. Standing up and moving along side Ron in the chair, she made to set the room right again.  
   
Delicately flicking her wand this way and that, the chairs and table swirled into motion and repaired themselves and stood upright properly. The cupboard doors re-aligned on their hinges properly and the broken glassware came together again. The remaining debris she whisked into the smoldering coals in the fireplace. A few chairs still looked a little wobbly and there were still blackened blast marks on the walls. Not her best work perhaps, but it could suffice for now.  
   
Ron watched her silently, feeling a mixture of shame and pride. He and she together were a pair of opposing forces, and when joined created a sense of balance. Ron felt he had tipped the scales with his damage and she would correct the imbalance by putting them back together again. Only in this case, it wasn’t a simple matter of repairing broken chairs. This went deeper.  
   
Hermione spotted the chess board on the floor by the fire, the severed and mounted heads of the white pieces not escaping her notice. She knew Ron needed a task of another sort to concentrate on. Turning around, she stood before Ron again.  
   
“Ron, look at me,” she said, holding out her hand for him. He shook his head slowly, looking at his knees.  
   
“Ron…”  
   
He closed his eyes and forced himself to speak.  
   
“I can’t,” he choked out, voice cracking. “‘Mione, don’t ask me look in your eyes and see the hurt that I caused you.”  
   
“ _You_ did not hurt me. _Draco Malfoy_ hurt me. The blame rests squarely on him Ron, not you.”  She saw the glint in his eyes, and the tendon in his jaw jump at the mention of Malfoy’s name. His bottled up rage and hurt would continue to eat away at him from the inside out unless he had an outlet for it. She was going to give him one.  
   
“Tell me; why did you break everything here in the kitchen? Why did you hurt your hands doing it?” His response to her was an incredulous look.  
   
“What do you mean? You know perfectly well…” Ron just shook his head in frustration, unable to believe Hermione would bate him with mind games now.  
   
“No, I want you to think about it and answer me,” she persisted, “you used your fists and your wand to break almost everything in here. I’m not trying to give you grief, but you did it because….” She wanted him to finish her leading question.  
   
“…Because… because it’s all I could do. Because, I couldn’t rip Malfoy to bits. I let him go last night, I should have finished him right then, and not let Harry talk me out of it.”  
   
“But you had to let him go. Harry was right, his testimony against the Death Eaters will be vital in assuring they are put into prison forever. That part has not changed. That is why it was so important for us to arrest him in the first place.”  
   
“Yeah that’s right” he said callously, “and then after he testifies he’s likely to go scott free. He’ll be cleared of the whole lot and be allowed to return to his mansion and his money.”  
   
“So, it hasn’t occurred to you that he should receive justice for what he did, to us?”  
   
Ron looked up with a questioning glance and he was as close to looking her in the eye as he had yet. “Surely you don’t mean to lodge a formal complaint? I mean, I would support you and all, of course, but?”  
   
“No. I will not be making a formal complaint. But Ron,” Hermione knelt down in front of him again, her hands on the arms of the chair, leaning in close, “the Ministry doesn’t take care of all of the evil creatures that are out there, do they? There are times when we, Harry and you and I, and the Order, we are the ones who make sure justice is served, right?”  
   
Ron met her eyes for the first time. He was taken aback at the bitter intensity he saw there. Hermione was many brilliant, gentle things, but she was also a fellow warrior too. That part was showing in her now.  
   
“We both know what you have to do Ron, and you won’t let him get away with it. You will set this matter to rights with him. Destroying this kitchen was just a display of temper, but I know you have more patience than that. Are listening to what I am saying?” He nodded numbly, the hair on the back of his neck standing on end from the rush of energy coming off of her. “However long it takes, Draco Malfoy will find justice at Ronald Weasley’s hands.” It almost felt like an order, but she made it sound like a simple statement of fact.  
   
Hermione finally blinked. She took a breath, her mild side reflected again in her eyes. She had let go of the need for vengeance and placed it on Ron’s shoulders now. The burden was his to bear, exactly as he wanted. Sitting in this dank house, fighting against his nature of wanting to right a wrong; if he were forced deny the anger over what had happened to her, to them, he would take it out on himself. Hermione gave him what he needed. He now had her consent to carry the anger, remember its cause, and to plan on settling the matter among men. This is something he could live with.  
   
Hermione stood up in front of him again and stepped back. Holding her hand out to him, she spoke, “Come with me now.” He looked at her, still feeling apprehensive. He was still afraid of being alone with her and how they were going to move on after what had happened. “Meet me half way,” she said. “I need you, we need each other.” Ron couldn’t deny what she said was true. They belonged together.  
   
Ron rubbed his eyes and took a deep breath. He forced his body to slide forward to the front of the chair. The Firewhiskey and exhaustion in him made his body rebel at the movement. He made himself think past the pounding in his head. The only thing giving him the strength to press on past the fatigue was Hermione’s still extended hand, waiting for him to accept it.  
   
With his head tilted almost shyly to the side, he reached up and enclosed her small soft hand in his. He looked at her cautiously, seeking reassurance of the simple act of taking her hand. She squeezed his in return and gently pulled, urging him to stand. Holding her hand with both of his, he raised it to his lips and pressed a small kiss onto it.  
   
There was uncertainty ahead of them, but with their two personalities, law and chaos, they would try to find that balance together.  
   
~^~^~^  
   
 _There you go, finally on the way to getting what you asked for! I’m certain you’ll like the next chapter best of all. I deeply thank all of you that have been reading and especially those of you that take the time to review, it really means a lot to me.  
_

_Sloppy Sirius kisses to my beta mrspadf00t1- I get less red marks every time!_ _Thanks to the naughty girls of The Quidditch Pitch as well for all their work over here!_


	6. Crossing the Divide - Chapter 6

Hermione listened to the faint sounds of running water coming from across the hall as she lay on the bed. Still on her side, she looked at the depression in the bedcovers where Ron had slept running her fingers over the empty space that had now grown cold.  
   
When they had returned to the flat from Grimmauld Place, Hermione led Ron by the hand, quietly down the hall toward their room. Both knew that Harry and Ginny were sleeping behind the closed bedroom door ahead of him.  
   
Emotions were too strong and exhaustion too great to spend energy on words. Taking their respective sides of their bed, the inches between them felt like a wide expanse that neither could traverse. They laced their fingers together across the divide between them and Ron fell asleep almost immediately. Hermione watched him, assuring herself repeatedly that he was near at hand and safe until she too fell asleep.  
   
Hermione finally rose from the bed and lit the small lamp in the room. The sun had passed over the sky while they slept and the room was dim with the pale light of evening.  
   
And still the water ran.  
   
“Ron?” Hermione called gently as she opened the door to the loo, entering the room slowly.  
   
Ron was standing under the spray of water, one hand leaning on the wall in front of him, while his head drooped forward, his free hand covering his face.  
   
The image was full of disparity; nude and vulnerable with his shoulders slumped low, looking an utterly stricken man. This contrasted with his sheer size, and his trim, toned body. His fair skin marred by the occasional scar. He was strong and already a survivor.  
   
Hermione had experienced a lifetime of terrifying things next to Ron and each time he held his head high and faced the danger bravely. He would even manage to wink at her and make disparaging remarks about the foe they faced. He had a lion’s heart and it was full love for life and the people in it. Right now he was lost.  
   
Hermione could not allow this valiant man, _her_ man, to doubt himself for one more minute.  
   
Shutting the door gently behind her, she walked across the steamy room, pulled back the white curtain and stepped into the shower in front of him.  
   
He looked up from his hand, startled, looking at her as though she were mad. Still wearing his gray t-shirt and a pair of cotton legging, she was immediately soaked through, the fabric clinging to her.  
   
Ron’s blue eyes were glistening and even if he were not drenched from the shower, Hermione knew they would still be wet. She reached up and ran her fingers through his water-darkened hair, brushing it out of his face.  
   
“Don’t do this to yourself,” she said holding his face in her hands. His expression changed to gratitude as he put his arms around her. He pulled her into a crushing embrace, burying his face in her neck.  
   
“I’m sorry, ‘Mione,” he said, his strong voice cracking and muffled. “I love you so much.”  
   
“I love you too, I do,” Hermione said breathlessly as he held her tightly. “Please believe that I’m not upset with you, _honestly_.”  
   
He leaned back to look into her face, peeling wet curls off her cheek and gently stroking her face.  
   
“You remember our first time together?” he asked.  
   
She looked at him with a quirked eyebrow and nodded with a smile. “I could not possibly ever forget,” she said softly, “it was lovely.”  
   
He acknowledged with a slight nod and a frown. He continued, “but it wasn’t perfect though. It hurt you, I know, and that just tore me apart.”  
   
“But that was only for a moment. I don’t even think on that part when I remember it.”

 

“But I do.” Ron looked very sincere. “I hurt you, and I swore to myself right then I would never hurt you again. I meant it. I’ve tried so hard never to cause you any pain. I’m an idiot sometimes, granted, but I haven’t, have I? Ever hurt you?”  
   
“No, Ron, never.” She stroked his face and smiled gently at him. He had been looking after her for years. He was always the first to defend her honor and keep her safe.  
   
“I didn’t keep my promise.” He shook his head sadly. His voice was hardly above a whisper.  
   
“I’ve been hurt before. Not by you of course, but in battle. This was just another wound of warfare. It was caused by one of our enemies, not by you.”  
   
His eyes filled again as he looked at her in wonder. “I’ll always know different though. I’ll spend the rest of my life trying to make it up to you, if you’ll let me…”  
   
Hermione’s chest tightened and she barely found her voice to say, “forever.”  
   
They clung to each other desperately, weeping quietly into the safety of each other’s arms. Baring their new and deepest wound, they shed their tears of humiliation and anger together.  
   
After a long while, the last of their tears were washed away.  
   
Ron was the first to take a deep breath and regain control of his breathing. Their embrace slowly relaxed. Hermione sensed the change in him. The physical release of emotions having passed, he regained his demeanor.  
   
Stepping back he looked directly into the spray, washing the salt off of his face. He looked back at Hermione and gave her a loving smirk.  
   
“Look at you,” he said, tugging on her wet, heavy shirt, “did you think I was going to drown myself?”  
   
“Maybe.” She appreciated his mild attempt at levity  
   
“Here, let’s get this mess off.” Ron helped her remove the awkward clothing, so she was now as undressed as well.  
   
Hermione instinctively and affectionately ran her hands over his chest. Doing what she would anytime he was shirtless in front of her.  
   
Stopping her touch, he drew her hands into his and kissed her knuckles, then let them drop as he turned away from her. She stood back and watched as he washed and rinsed his hair. Next, he silently guided them into opposite positions so she could shampoo her hair while he lathered his body with soap.  
   
Watching him run his hands over his body, in the somewhat haphazard way he did was endearing.  He would never realize how truly stunning a man he was. In spite of all their current difficulty, she could still appreciate how handsome he was. The trail of water and soap suds ran through the fiery hair of his chest, down the centerline of his stomach and separated to run down each leg, twisting and curving along the flexing muscles of his thighs. The smattering of dark freckles and ginger hair was distinctly _Ron_ in her eyes _._  
   
After she rinsed her hair, he gently rotated their position again so he could rinse off. He barely made eye contact with her, scarcely touching her at all except using his hands on her shoulders.  
   
When he was free of lather, she stepped close to him, her naked body pressed against his and held him tight. He returned her embrace with a little squeeze and stepped away from her, turning off the water.  
   
“Here you go,” he said, handing her a towel, “dry off so you don’t get chilled.” They both dried in silence. He continued to give her little smiles through shadowed eyes as they maneuvered around each other in the small space. Never touching.  
   
Anxiety was growing under Hermione’s skin. She couldn’t remember a single time when they had been naked together, that Ron hadn’t put his hands on her. Even the moments that didn’t result in passionate writhing, he never missed the opportunity to undress her with his eyes and touch any of her he could get away with.  
   
She wasn’t sure exactly what she wanted just now, but the difference in him was creeping coldly over her like a Dementor’s presence. She had carried the confidence of Ron’s attention for years now, even before he had ever been bold enough to touch her. That confidence was fading now and for the first time since adolescence she couldn’t discern what he was thinking about her.  
   
With a towel wrapped around her body and one around his waist, they took turns silently combing hair and cleaning teeth. She removed a jar of ointment from a cupboard.  
   
“Come sit here so I can put this on you,” she said.  
   
“Hermione, don’t fuss,” Ron said, trying to avoid her attention. “Just leave it be.” He spoke gently but there was note of annoyance.  
   
“Let me.  Please cooperate,” she said taking his arm and urging him to sit against the counter top.  
   
He looked slightly put out but complied with her request. He looked at the back wall while she applied the cream to the red cut on his neck. He barely flicked an eyelash at the pressure of her fingers along the tender skin.  
   
“Does it hurt?” she asked. He merely shrugged in response. She knew he wouldn’t complain if it did.  
   
“The balm will heal it soon, of course you know that by now, but it’s still going to leave a scar I’m afraid,” she told him, closing the jar.  
   
“I don’t care about that.”  
   
“I know you don’t.”  
   
Hermione surveyed the tiny white marks and lines that interrupted the freckles over his body. There was a triangular mark above his eyebrow from a fragment of the giant chess piece that fell over him when he was twelve. The lines that still swirled around the inside of his elbow and over his bicep from the brain’s grasp on him. There were more marks he’d earned since, most of which she had treated herself.  
   
She leaned down to kiss a pale jagged line that cut across his shoulder when he stiffened and held her at bay.  
   
“Hermione, don’t-” But she was denied hearing his explanation by the sound of movement down the hall informing them that Harry and Ginny were also up.  
   
“I expect we should get dressed.” Ron said, “I’ll bring us some food.”  
   
Hermione returned to their room trying not to show him how dejected she was feeling.  
   
~^~^~^  
   


After pulling on his shorts, Ron went to the kitchen to gather a small meal from what Ginny had brought to the flat. 

   
Returning to the bedroom he found himself face to face with Ginny in the hallway on her way to the shower.  
   
She looked startled to see him and the immediate look of sympathy that he saw in her eyes told him that Harry had told her about what happened.  
   
In spite of having just shed some of the grief he felt about it, the wretched feelings rose up in him again. His throat was suddenly too dry to speak and he couldn’t manage to look anywhere but the floor. Ginny had always looked up to him and keeping his sister’s good opinion meant a lot to him.  
   
“Oh no you don’t, Ron Weasley,” Ginny scolded affectionately, taking his chin in her hand and firmly pushing it upwards, “don’t you dare hang your head in front of anybody big brother. You’re far too good for that. You hold your head up proud, you hear me?”  
   
She poked him in the shoulder, and glared up at him with raised eyebrows until he gave her a wry grin. He kissed the top of her head saying, “thanks, Gin.”  
   
~^~^~^  
   
When Ron entered the bedroom he was still smiling from Ginny’s reassurance. He found Hermione standing in front of the little window, still wrapped in her towel with her arms folded in front of her.  
   
Putting down their food on the sideboard, he stood behind her putting his hands lightly on her shoulders. After a long, quiet minute, he drew breath and spoke.  
   
“Do we have to talk about this Hermione?” he asked, sounding weary, but earnest.  
   
“You’re pulling away from me,” she said.  
   
“ ‘m not.”  
   
“I can feel you avoiding me.”  
   
“I am not Hermione, I’m right here aren’t I?”  
   
“You’re avoiding touching me.”  
   
“What are talking about? I’m touching you now.”  
   
“In the shower, and after. As if you couldn’t put enough distance between us.”  
   
“Well that, that wasn’t it at all.” He stepped to her side to look at her.  
   
“It’s as though you don’t want to even see me naked, or kiss me, or anything.”  
   
“Well I hardly thought you’d want that Hermione. Am I supposed to grope after you like normal? I mean, having a shag against the tile hardly seemed appropriate.” He regretted the rough words the moment they left his mouth, cursing himself when he saw her wince and begin to tear up.  
   
“Oh now come on, please don’t. Don’t cry. Come here.”  Ron pulled her close in his arms and gently rocked her. He placed comforting kisses on her head and gradually continued until he kissed her cheek.  “I don’t know what you want me to do here, Love,” he said softly in her ear. “I just want to stop hurting you.”    
   
“I want to feel your hands on me, Ron. I can’t stand another minute of, _that_ , being the last time you touched me.” Her voice hitched in her throat. He leaned back to look into her eyes.  
   
“It has nothing to do with not wanting you. I just thought you wouldn’t want me too.”  
   
“But I do. I want to feel you again. Please show me that nothing has changed between us. That we can get past this- that it won’t tear us apart- that we won’t let it.” Hermione’s voice got higher and more constricted as she began to sound frantic, her eyes looking desperate.  
   
“Ok, shh, ok,” Ron said as pulled her close. She had been strong for him when all he could do was struggle in darkness. Now it was time for him to make her feel secure again. “Nothing will ever tear us apart. I won’t let it.”  
   
“Make me feel warm again,” she whispered, looking up at him, clutching him.  
   
Her still damp curls and flushed pink cheeks reminded him of the girl he fell in love with, before the war, before they became survivors.  
   
For the first time since he held her in his arms in the shadows outside Malfoy Manor, he kissed her. Pressing his lips against hers, firmly, and then soft, then firm again.  
   
He embraced her tightly against him, nearly lifting her off the floor and then led her backwards towards their bed. He kissed her gently and ever so slowly deepened their kisses, while continuing to look to her for approval.  
   
Hermione began to unfasten the towel around her but trepidation got the better of her and she hesitated.   
   
Seeing her trembling hands, Ron held them, kissing her fingers.  
   
“Look, me too,” he said as he held out his own hand to show her he also shook. The simple grin on his face, which always served to break a building tension and lower her defenses.  
   
“Leave it, there’s no hurry,” he told her. Towel still wrapped firmly in place, he slowly lowered himself onto the bed, pulling her with him, kissing her all the while.  
   
They had little more use for words. There were only the constant smiles of acceptance to encourage him to continue.  
   
In time, he slowly loosened the towel concealing her from him, letting it fall open. Hermione bit her lip, and tried to hide her hesitation. Ron just held her tight against him, until she softened into his embrace.  
   


She had asked him to do this, to prove that nothing had changed between them, but he could see she was in conflict about this renewed intimacy.   

   
His hands roamed over her torso, slowly, as though learning her all over again. Not even their first time had he been so tentative with his hands. But Ron always knew how to love his Hermione, even before he learned her body intimately.  
   
He caressed her breasts tenderly, first with hands and then with his mouth. He was careful that his mouth on her was soft and kept her warm. When he released her to look for more reassurance he found tears running from her eyes.  
   
“ ‘Mione?” he asked, wiping the stream off her temple.  
   
“Don’t mind it,” she said  from behind closed eyes, “it doesn’t mean anything.”  
   
“Open your eyes, Love,” he instructed. She obeyed. “It’s me, see? Really me.”  
   
She nodded and he continued to explore her with his hands slower than he ever had. They weren’t consumed with need and urgency. This was an agonizing exercise in patience and trust.  
   
When his hand slid between her legs Hermione was overpowered by the instinct to stop his movement by trapping his hand between her thighs. He whispered loving words of encouragement “trust me, Love… real slow, I promise.” He gently kneaded her thigh, squeezing and rubbing until eventually coaxing her to open to him.  
   
Imperceptibly his hand eased higher in small circles, when at last he reached her center she didn’t startle when he finally explored her sex. There was no hurry in his actions. He was willing to take all night to carefully give her what she wanted of him.  
   
Her body took longer than usual to respond to his caress, but he had unlimited patience to get her ready to receive him. He took his time loving her with his hands until her restrained silence gave way to quiet gasps.  
   
When at last he positioned himself over top of her, his hands no longer shook with apprehension, but with adoration.  
   
Ron spoke again gently. “Look at me, Hermione.  Are you sure? There’s no hurry to do this tonight.”  
   
She smiled gratefully at his concern, feeling how hard he was for her, and knowing he would stop for her at any moment.  
   
“I’m sure,” she said as she kissed him.  
   
“I love you,” he said into her ear, as he very slowly entered her, firm but gentle.  
   
She clung his shoulders, pulling him down on top of her, feeling safe under the weight of him as he rocked into her.  
   
Her mind blocked all bitter memory while she could feel nothing but his rolling movements, in and out, enjoying the pleasure he gave and the love he filled her with.  
   
The friction between their bodies continued to escalate, both becoming breathless in spite of the unhurried intensity.  
   
When she pulled her knees wide, pressing into his slow thrust, he knew she had let down the last of her resistance. Ron fought against his instinct to let physical need direct his movements, but now that she was grasping at him, clutching his backside and returning his kisses passionately he took that as leave to let go.  
   
Ron pushed himself up onto his hands to look down at her while he made love to her with increasing vigor. Hermione’s face now only showed pleasure, her mouth open.  She quietly moaned and gasped as he filled her, pulled away, and filled her again.  
   
He felt redeemed that at least in this moment, he was giving her this joy, this pleasure.  
   
He knew he couldn’t hold back his climax for much longer. He lay back over her closely. Reaching down between them, where their bodies joined, he rubbed her heightened nub while he kissed her shoulder and neck.  
   
She tensed and arched when the peak of their lovemaking hit her, making her whimper softly into his chest while she squeezed him around the waist with her knees. Ron let go of his own release along with her, muffling his groan through gritted teeth, gripping the pillow behind her head tightly.  
   
With their bodies release they let go of the evil curse that had touched them, and had proven once again to the enemy that would hurt them; their love would not be broken.  
   
   
~^~^~^  
   
I’m so grateful for the kind words I’ve gotten from those who have been following this story. You’ve been waiting (none too patiently) for Ron and Hermione to get together again, so I hope you like how it happened. I really enjoyed writing it after everything else. Only one more chapter to go!  


My special thanks to dear mrspadf00t1 for her gentle and educational beta work. You really should go read her stories too! 


	7. Reparation

~^~^~^  
  
Cold waves pounded against the island’s shore. Less than an hour before what should be sunset, daylight was waning. The island prison was always dark and dismal no matter what time of day it was. The sun never shined here.   
  
In the outer-most courtyard of Azkaban prison, two cloaked wizards with hoods pulled low waited in the shadows along the inner wall. Waiting patiently, not talking, not moving.   
  
Hate and revenge are strong motivators against tedium.  
  
The sky had turned a deeper shade grey when the door in the center of the prison wall opened, silhouetting the thin man in the doorway.   
  
He wrapped a cloak around his shoulders as he began the long walk across the seemingly empty compound. He had a more confidant swagger than most who came out of that doorway.   
  
He didn’t appear to see the cloaked wizards look at one another before setting out at a swift pace behind him.  
  
“Malfoy,” one of the men called out.  
  
Draco Malfoy spun around and faced the approaching men.   
  
“Who’s there?” Malfoy demanded, squinting to see their faces.   
  
“Nott? Douglas? What are you skulking about for? I’m ready to go home.”  
  
The two men halted their approach several meters before him.   
  
“No Malfoy. We’re not here to take you home,” one said.  
  
“Who are you? I know your voice, show yourselves!” Malfoy demanded, with more apprehension than authority. The oppression of the building behind them had a greater affect on him than he wanted to let on.  
  
Both wizards looked at each before slowly lowering their hoods. The striking difference in hair color between the two was visible in the waning dusk.  
  
Malfoy reacted with surprise at recognition of them and swore under his breath. “Potter and Weasley,” he said in an accusatory tone.  
  
Ron grinned, looking satisfied at the alarm that Malfoy tried to conceal.   
  
“At least he knows enough to be scared of us now.”  
  
“Not nearly as scared as he ought to be,” Harry agreed.  
  
“I’m not scared of you!” Malfoy said, even as he began to sidestep backward, away from them.  
  
Ron and Harry parted automatically, flanking Malfoy, slowly circling around him like lions cornering their prey.   
  
“All right then, gentleman,” Malfoy began in an appeasing tone, trying to get an upper hand in this unexpected situation, “still smarting over old school wounds then?”  
  
Ron’s pulse quickened at the sarcastic droll that Malfoy dared to speak with. The sound of his voice produced lightning quick memories; Hermione’s hands pushing against him, Hermione crying underneath him, Hermione flinching with pain inflicted by his own hand.  
  
“This has nothing to do with your Ferret days,” Ron countered. “You know damn well what this is about.”  
  
Malfoy’s lips twitched with a smirk before regaining his countenance. He jutted his jaw upward in determined superiority. The passing years had only increased his likeness to his father.  
  
“You know that I’ve been cleared of all charges. I don’t believe that I have anything to discuss with either of you.” Malfoy spoke with arrogance, turning to Ron as he continued, “if you had any grievance with me you could have made your statement to the Wizengamot. I saw you there. You could have made an official record of your complaint.”  
  
Harry could see Ron wouldn’t be able to restrain himself if Malfoy continued to taunt him.  
  
“And for some inexplicable reason, none of my traveling companions remembered why they were arrested, they had nothing to report about anything.” There was an evil glint in Malfoy’s eyes.  
  
Harry had indeed been successful in Obliviating the group arrested at Malfoy Manor. It had been easy for ‘Harry Potter’ to besot the cell guards with his celebrity and gain access to them. Except for Malfoy. Harry and Ron wanted him to remember his crime when they mete out his punishment.  
  
“Let’s just do this.” Ron said, more to Harry than to Malfoy.  
  
“You know lads, it’s hardly sporting, two of you against just one. I would certainly honor a proper duel, if only I were armed…. And I do have an escort coming for me any moment now.”  
  
“No one is coming for you Malfoy, we’ve already seen to that” Harry told him, which seemed to unnerve Malfoy further.  
  
“And you really are thick if you think you could last in a duel with Harry Potter, wand or no wand,” Ron scoffed. “You will get fair match though,” he said as he removed his cloak and tossed it to the ground, pushing up his sleeves.  
  
“But not with wands,” said Harry.  
  
Malfoy’s eyes widened at the sight of the Ron Weasley before for him, no longer the tall and gangly teen when he had last seen him.   
  
“Oh now, surely you’re joking Weasley. You’ve been compensated for your lack of brains and talent with sheer ape-size. A primitive brawl with me would hardly be equal.”  
  
“Don’t worry your demented head about me beating you, Malfoy,” Ron countered.  
  
Harry produced his wand, and Malfoy’s eyes darted back and forth between them.   
  
“You said no wands,” Malfoy said, his shaky voice betraying his concern.  
  
“I won’t use my wand,” Harry agreed, as he handed it to Ron, who put it in his back pocket with his own.  
  
“Ron won’t be beating you tonight, Malfoy, Harry said as he unclasped his robe and tossed it on the ground near Ron’s. “I will.”  
  
Malfoy let out a small gasp of relief at understanding that Ron apparently didn’t intend to hit him. “All right, I see. Well if we must go through with this garish display...”  
  
“Shut up, Malfoy” Harry said, cutting him off. “I’m tired of your voice.” Harry advanced slowly on Malfoy, cracking his knuckles and rolling his head from side to side, closing the distance between them. Malfoy removed his own cloak, folded it, and carefully set it on the ground.   
  
Ron’s keen observation caught Malfoy’s next action before Harry did.   
  
“Oi!” was all the vocal warning he could shout to Harry before Malfoy threw a handful of dirt into Harry’s face, immediately lunging towards him. Harry flung his left arm over his face, cursing.  
  
“Harry, turn!” Ron ordered. Harry didn’t even need a second to trust Ron’s instruction. He spun and turned his back on Malfoy just in time to avoid his advancing blow, which struck him in the back of the head.  
  
“Elbow!” Ron called out, fighting all temptation to fling himself at Malfoy. Harry blindly followed Ron’s instruction and brought his right elbow down hard, planting it firmly in Malfoy’s stomach.  
  
“Turn and uppercut!” were Ron’s next words. While Harry still shielded his blinded eyes with his left arm, he used his right to sightlessly follow Ron’s orders.  
  
Harry spun and his fist connected hard under Malfoy’s chin. The blow struck with considerable force and Malfoy stumbled back onto his arse.  
  
Harry backed away to put a safer distance between himself and Malfoy.  
  
“You’ve got a few minutes,” Ron said, knowing that Harry was ready for another unseen assault.   
  
“Come toward my voice. Malfoy’s going to try not to black out for the next few minutes. Decent uppercut, especially as you couldn’t see him.”  
  
“Fucking dirty Slytherin git,” Harry snarled, wiping his face off. Ron produced his wand and held in front of Harry’s face.   
  
“Tilt your head back,” Ron told him. A stream of water came out of the end of his wand and he washed the dirt and tiny rocks out of Harry’s eyes.  
  
“Remember who you’re dealing with Harry. Remember getting your nose broken while you were petrified? He always fights dirty.”  
  
“Yeah, I know, Ron!” Harry said, more annoyed with himself than at Ron, “I know, stupid mistake...” Harry blinked hard and rubbed the water off his face and through his hair.   
  
“Don’t try to fight noble Harry, he doesn’t. Don’t look at his eyes to anticipate magic, you have to look at his shoulders and how he shifts his weight.”  
  
Malfoy groaned and cursed and then rolled onto his side. Harry turned back towards him.  
  
“Get on your feet, Malfoy,” Harry said, approaching him, “were not done here.”  
  
Malfoy started to laugh quietly as he pushed himself to a stand, rubbing his jaw.  
  
“Potter, you could have done your damage while I was down,” Malfoy said in a snide tone, rather unlike a man who had just been splayed on his back. “Honestly, all this trouble because of a little entertainment? I’ve never had any complaints before.”  
  
Harry turned to look at Ron to see if he had heard the same thing. By the shade of maroon he had turned, Harry knew he had.  
  
“So that’s your kick is it? You put a couple under the Imperius curse just to perform for you? You really are a sick fuck.”  
  
Malfoy smiled and dared to look right at Ron, “best pornography there is.”  
  
Ron nearly lost it and attacked but Harry was closer and struck first.   
  
For a minute, each traded blows. Harry’s punches make contact more effectively than Malfoy’s, who already had a trail of blood coming from his nose and a cut on his cheek.  
  
Ron mimicked Harry’s actions from where he stood, relishing in the vicarious movement.   
  
Harry had to concentrate on not putting up wandless magical blocks and remember to duck instead. Though he couldn’t be sure he wasn’t using a hint of Legilimency, anticipating most of Malfoy’s punches.  
  
Harry struck once again and there was the sickening stifled sound of a ‘crack.’ Harry grunted in pain, curling his wrist close to his side. Harry muttered a string of foul words, trying hard not to let any of his words come out as actual curses.  
  
After staggering briefly from Harry’s last punch, Malfoy rubbed his jaw, shaking his head but continued to look amused, though both were out of breath.  
  
“Oh come on boys, it was all in good fun. Nothing was done to anyone that hadn’t been done before, right?” Malfoy launched himself at Harry. He wrapped his arms around Harry’s chest in a boxer’s hug, preventing more punches.  
  
“Why the cat and mouse routine, Potter?” Malfoy hissed in Harry’s ear. “Won’t you let Weasley fight his own battles?” Harry struggled to free himself of Malfoy’s hold, while he continued to taunt. “Or maybe you didn’t like being left out? Have you been putting it to the mudblood as well? You share everything with Weasl—.”   
  
But Malfoy’s last word was cut short as Harry’s brought his knee up with force into his groin. Malfoy yelled out, coughed, and whimpered as he fell to his knees, holding his privates.  
  
Harry walked around Malfoy and kicked him sharply on the right side of his lower back with the toe of his boot, sending him tumbling to the ground. He moaned again while curled on his side.  
  
After Harry backed off, Ron moved in, leaning over Malfoy slightly.  
  
“That was your kidney, Malfoy. Hurts, that does. You’ll be pissing blood for two days.” Ron paused to watch Malfoy squirm and wince in pain. “But you won’t be feeling anything soon.”  
  
Harry had a bruised cheek and red eyes, but Malfoy fared much worse.   
  
Looking up at Ron from his prone position on the ground, he finally showed his fear of the men standing over him.   
  
“Pull him up, “Ron said. Harry walked behind Malfoy and grabbed a handful of hair and pulled him roughly to his knees. His head strained oddly from the tension of Harry’s grip.  
  
Malfoy’s eyes widened as he saw Ron withdraw his wand and walk closer.  
  
“I –I thought you said no magic,” Malfoy stammered, through his gritted teeth.   
  
Harry yanked hard on his handful of hair and snarled menacingly into Malfoy’s ear, “we said I wouldn’t use magic on you”   
  
Harry released his hair but held Malfoy in chokehold with one arm and tugged his other his wrist back between his shoulder blades with the other.  
  
Ron crouched in front of Malfoy, holding his wand in front of Malfoy’s face.  
  
“You are going to remember me, Malfoy. Everyday for as long as you live you’ll regret what you did to us, what you did to her….”   
  
“You know what this is?” Malfoy said, thrusting his forearm out, indicating what they all knew was under his sleeve, “I earned this when I was only sixteen. There’s nothing left you can do to me.”  
  
“Yeah? I’ll guarantee you never have your way with anyone else again, fucking pervert.”  
  
Ron stepped back and pointed his wand at Malfoy’s face. He winced waiting for a painful curse to hit him, but it didn’t come.   
  
Ron slowly lowered the aim of his wand down Malfoy’s body, pointing at the zip of his trousers. Malfoy’s eyes reflected sudden panic and he flailed against Harry’s restraint.  
  
“What are you doing? No! You can’t!”  
  
“Don’t miss your aim, mate,” Harry said. Ron raised his eyebrow in response. In this, he was perfectly confident.  
  
Malfoy tried to struggle free, yelling at them and didn’t hear the curse when Ron spoke it, ‘Deposco Castro.’  
  
Malfoy suddenly went quiet. His body froze and he went pale.  
  
“Right, doesn’t hurt at all anymore does it?” Ron said, sounding quite pleased. “It should actually feel quite cool for few minutes. After that, you won’t be feeling a thing, or getting it up…”  
  
“You didn’t?” Malfoy whispered, horrified.  
  
“Oh yeah, I did. You’ll be numb and soft as pudding for a very, long, time.” A strangled cry escaped Malfoy.  
  
Ron then muttered a cleansing spell over Malfoy, cleaning but not healing his wounds. “Now, we want you to look sharp for where you’re going. You’ll be a favorite, even without a functioning prick.”  
  
“What? Where?”  
  
Ron withdrew from his pocket a small item wrapped in a handkerchief. Unwrapping a small chess pawn with a severed head, he muttered “Portus”  
  
“What’s going on? You can’t do this to me!” Malfoy’s voice was high and frantic.  
  
Ron jerked his head at Harry, who released Malfoy and stepped back.  
  
Ron seized his wrist with one hand, “Don’t forget about me, Malfoy… and try to, have a little fun.” With that, Ron shoved the tiny Portkey into Malfoy’s hand.  
  
Harry and Ron watched Malfoy disappear and both took several minutes to catch their breath as the adrenaline rush lowered.   
  
“Changi?” Harry asked.  
  
“Yeah, figured that would be the worst Wizard Prison in the world. His skinny white arse will be popular there.”   
  
They were quiet again, but resolved. Neither felt guilt nor sorry for Malfoy. He deserved what he got.  
  
“Alright, let’s see that hand,” Ron said. Harry hesitantly stuck out the wrist he was holding against his side.  
  
Ron felt the bones in Harry’s forearm then wrist, and then fingers.  
  
“Fuck! Damn it, Ron, that hurts.”  
  
“Well yeah, you Git, it’s broken. I’ve told you before, you have to keep your knuckles aligned with your wrist when you punch.”  
  
“Right, well thanks for not rubbing that in, you’re a real Mate.”  
  
“Oi,” Ron said, grabbing hold of Harry’s fingers, “This’ll hurt. Don’t be a pouf”  
  
“Yeah, go on then,” said Harry dryly, and with that Ron pulled hard Harry’s fingers, re-aligning the broken bone. Harry’s yelled out in pain.  
  
“Bugger! Fuck, Son of a –!”  
  
“Budge up,” Ron said, handing Harry his wand, “Now you can heal it.” Harry took his wand and healed the broken bone, sighing with relief.  
  
Both men picked up their robes and wrapped them around their shoulders as a light rain began to fall.  
  
They walked in silence towards the far exit of the prison courtyard, beyond the Apparition wards. Without words they held their wands in hand and Apparated into the shadows of the street outside their flat.   
  
They both looked up at the tiny windows glowing in the darkness, thinking of the women that were waiting for them inside the lamp lit room above.  
  
“So, is that it then? Are we done with this?” Harry inquired, cautious not to push Ron with the subject.   
  
Ron contemplated in silence for moment and then nodded, showing his bright smile.  
  
“Yeah, definitely. I want to go upstairs and eat, shag and sleep, in that order. You?”  
  
Harry chuckled. “You won’t mind if my answer is the same?”  
  
“Nah – I figure I know what you do to my sister at the end of the hall by now.” Ron grinned.  
  
Harry blushed under the hood of his cloak, and he followed Ron upstairs.   
  
  
The End  
~^~^~^  
 _A/N - The spell, Deposco Castro, I made up but is latin. deposco=to demand or request and castro=castrate. heh - I also just liked the way it sounded, so give me a break ok :)  
  
Changi is the name of a real prison in Singapore.  
  
There it is, all done. What a relief! This story has been excruciating for me to write but it has been such a great learning experience. My sweet, sweet beta mrspadf00t1 deserves loads of credit for taking me gently by the hand and making me stay focused.   
I have to thank my dear husband and his dodgy experience for helping me with the violence in this chapter.  
  
The reviews and encouragement I've recieved on this story have been incredibly touching. I'm very greatful for the support. Please take the time to leave one last review! Thank you! _  
__


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